Lock and Key: Rachel's Story
by storywriter30
Summary: One of Ziva's oldest and dearest friend emerges, in need of her help and guidance. Suddenly, Somalia doesn't feel so far away and it's just as she and Tony are getting back on their feet and to something more.
1. Chapter 1

There are many things that Ziva keeps under lock and key. She does so in order to protect them because, those things under lock and key, well, those are the things most important to her. I was in a freshman in college when I realized that I was one of those things kept under lock and key.

When I called, I was drunk and she knew right away. In my slurred speech, I told her that I thought I was in trouble. I couldn't remember how I ended up in a dorm at the University of Maryland, nearly an hour from my own at Georgetown, and I was almost certain that I didn't have my car. She picked me up less than an hour later. On the drive home, I noticed she had her gun holstered to her hip. It was then that I realized just how far she would go for me.

We met in 1999. She was seventeen. I had just turned twelve. My father was hosting a meeting of foreign intelligence dignitaries. My nanny, against her better judgment, had allowed me to go visit my father, at his office on my day off from school. This later got her fired. We walked in and his secretary told my nanny that my father was in a very important meeting and he could not be disturbed. I, the little brat that I was, stomped my foot and whined. I hadn't seen him in three days.

That's when I noticed her staring at me from the couch across the room. She was tall, dark hair and her eyes seemed to studying me. Uncomfortable, I turned away. The nanny told me to sit down and wait, she'd go ask someone else if he could be pulled out. I nodded; even though I knew he felt work was more important than me. Reluctantly, I took a seat on the couch across from her. She looked at me for a moment and then spoke.

"It gets easier," she said, her accent thick. I scowled at her. "He will still miss things, of course. He will probably miss more because he thinks that because you are older it will not bother you as much. It will still bother you. You will just get better at hiding it." Her statements made me uncomfortable, I didn't know her and yet, she seemed to know me so well.

"Who are you?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Ziva David," she responded, outstretching her hand. "My father is the Deputy Director of Mossad. It is like the CIA of Israel."

"I know what Mossad is," I said, knowingly.

"And I know who your father is," she responded, letting me know that I couldn't bully her with my father's job title, like I did to others. She had an essence about her that comforted me. She was tough but her eyes sparkled.  
"Rachel Williams," I said, taking her hand and shaking it.

For a while, we emailed, and then she joined the Israeli Army, as all citizens of her country are required to do. She told me to keep writing and I did, even though sometimes, it took her months to respond.

I told her everything that happened in my life and she told me about hers, though I assume she censored her letters for me. I was sixteen when she told me she had become a control officer in Mossad. I was happy for her. I knew she felt it was her duty to serve her country, just like I assumed I would join the Agency when I could. Her writings became even more scattered then, but they still came. When my brother died in Iraq my senior year in high school, she called from Paris where she was on a mission. I was at Georgetown when she called the next time. She told me about Ari and NCIS. We started meeting Saturday mornings for breakfast and grew closer. She was the big sister that I never had.

I started working for the Agency during my junior year at Georgetown. They valued both my linguistics and my last name. After graduation, an event that my father missed but Ziva did not, my father got me into the Special Operations of the CIA. It was everything that I had ever wanted. For a few months they kept me on domestic assignments. To say that I did well could be considered an understatement, I guess they were impressed.

My first international mission was _supposed_ to be an easy one. It was _supposed_ to be foolproof. There was an Iranian arms dealer who was supposedly selling cheap munitions to the insurgents in Afghanistan out of Prague. It was a purely observe and report mission, but one of the arms dealer's men caught on to me one night outside of the abandoned warehouse. They captured and tortured me, but I used what the CIA had taught me to sustain me until the extraction team found me. The gun had been at my head dozens of times.

After my debriefing, I didn't go home to the nice apartment that my father was paying for. Rather, I went to Ziva's apartment. I shouldn't have been surprised that Tony was there too. I mean, I knew that ever since she came back from Israel, or rather North Africa, she had been very different. Not different to me, no, she still treated me the same, felt the same way about me, but she was a different person. I could see that. I knew that at one point, a couple of summers ago, they had been together. Not officially, of course, but she couldn't hold a conversation without his name coming into play and little traces of someone else were evident throughout her apartment.

She opened the door halfway at first. I could tell that she didn't want me to come in. Her face changed, though, when she looked at me. She saw my bloodshot eyes, my messy hair, my shaking hands. She saw the desperation in my eyes and she pulled the door open all the way, revealing him sitting on her couch. Ziva put her arm around me and pulled me in. I broke down again; uncontrollable sobs took over my body. Tony got up from the couch and I saw the concern in his eyes. She sat me down on the couch.

"What can I do?" I heard him whisper.

"Why don't you start a pot of hot water, not tea just hot water."

"Ok," he nodded and walked into her kitchen. She paused _Back to the Future_, which was playing on her TV. She moved the ottoman from in front of the leather chair to in front of me. She sat down on it and put her hands on my knees. I took my hands out from hair and looked up at her. I just shook my head.

"I failed," I said, shrugging my shoulders in defeat.

"That, I do not believe," she responded.

"They almost killed me, Ziva!" I screamed, standing up. "I think that would be classified as failure. They had a gun and a knife and they both were held against me."

Tony came back from the kitchen with a mug in his hands; he handed it to Ziva and whispered in her ear. She nodded and he went to leave.

"No, don't go, I don't want to ruin anyone else's day," I said, still in hysterics.

"You're not ruining anyone's day," he said looking at me. I turned back to Ziva, I didn't want him to leave on my account. Plus, I was interested to finally be around the famous Tony.

"Tony, you can stay, the more value support, the better," Ziva said.

"Moral support," Tony and I corrected in unison. It caused me to smile, something that I hadn't done in days.

"Ok then," Tony said. He moved back toward Ziva and I and sat down again, this time on the ottoman. They both sat down on the couch, careful to keep an inch between them.

"Rachel," Ziva began, "what happened?"

"I told you how good I was doing," I began. "I told you how impressed they were, how proud he was. It felt so good, I thought that I had found my place, you know, something that I loved." She nodded for me to continue. "I wasn't supposed to do my first international mission alone, without a partner, but they were so impressed, they thought I could do it alone. They thought that I was good enough, and there would be less risk that way." My breathing escalated and suddenly the room felt very hot. "I was doing really well, or so I thought, but I guess I wasn't doing it well enough. One of the arms dealer's men caught on to me after he had seen me outside the abandoned warehouse a couple days in a row. I thought I had lost him, but evidently I was wrong. They came out of nowhere, five of them. They surrounded me and all of sudden I had nowhere to go." At this point I was hyperventilating. Tears began to stream down my face and I lost it again as all of the events of Prague came back to me.

"I think you should rest," Ziva said. I wrapped my arms around my body, as suddenly the room had gone from hot to cold.

"Can I go lay down?" I asked, "I mean, can I crash in the guest room tonight?"

"Of course," Ziva said. She got up with me and walked me to the guest room. It certainly wasn't the first time that I had stayed over, but usually it didn't happen like this. She pulled the bed down and I immediately climbed in. Ziva sat down in front of me on the bed.

"You did not fail," she said, staring into my eyes the same way she did almost ten years ago. "You did not fail because you are here." With that she patted my leg and left the room, shutting the door. She knew that I wouldn't want to hear anymore right now.

I tossed and turned for a while, finally settling for mindlessly watching the TV that was placed on the bureau. Hours later, I fell asleep.

[Ziva's Point of View]

I wandered out the guest bedroom and slumped down onto the couch next to Tony. He moved a little closer and I leaned against him. I felt like I was reliving Somalia all over again when I listened to her story. She was so torn up; I knew what it felt like to feel like a failure to people whose opinions you valued. It killed me to know that she feeling that way.

"Zi," Tony finally asked, "who is that?" He knew she wasn't Mossad; someone from Mossad would not have walked into my apartment and fallen apart at the seams, nor would I have let them. I didn't want to explain Rachel to him; she was someone who I tried, so far successfully, to keep away from the dangers of my work, my life. He moved a strand of hair from in front of my eyes to behind my ear. I trusted Tony, though, and I knew that if he knew Rachel like I did, he would protect her as well.

"Her name is Rachel Williams, Tony," I began. "She is the daughter of the Director of the CIA. We met when I was seventeen, here in D.C., with my father on a trip. We bonded and over the years she has become like a sister to me."

"How come you've never told me about her?" Tony asked, shifting me so that I was looking at him. I shook my head.

"I do not know. I suppose I wanted to protect her, keep her as far away from anything as possible. I would never want someone to be able to use her against me. I would not be able to forgive myself."

"Like Tali," Tony surmised.

"Yes, Tony, like Tali," I spat. I shifted away from him a little bit. He noticed and began to backtrack.

"Hey, Zi," he said, "you know I didn't mean to. . ." I cut him off.

"I know," I said and he pulled me back into his arms. Months ago, I would have slapped him for thinking he could act this way towards me. But that was months ago and things have changed since then. I could no longer push him away. It was not fair to either of us.

"Says a lot that she came here, Zi," Tony said, breaking the wall of silence that was beginning to form between us.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused as to where he was going with this.

"She trusts you."

"Blindly," I interrupted. "She would not if she had _any_ idea of the things that I have done over the years."

"Oh Ziva," he said sighing. "I've heard enough of how much of a bad person you are. You don't seriously believe all of this, do you?"

I chose not to respond to Tony's question. Instead, I turned the movie we had been watching back on. The things I had done over the years were both justified and unjustified. I thought I was "protecting the State of Israel." I have still not decided whether or not I believe that. But if they were unjustified, I paid for them in Somalia.

Tony tightened his hold on me. I'm sure he could imagine what I was thinking. That was another thing that I would not have allowed months ago. I would not have allowed Tony to go on thinking he knew what I was thinking. But now, after everything, it was the only way she survived.


	2. Chapter 2

Ziva awoke the next morning with a stiff neck. Tony's arms were still protectively around her. The DVD player screensaver was bouncing around the TV screen. She rubbed her eyes and sat up straighter, causing Tony to stir. She gently broke free of his arms and walked into the kitchen. Ziva was not surprised to find Rachel sitting at her kitchen table, reading the paper. Rachel sat with her legs folded underneath her and a mug of coffee between her hands. Ziva got herself a mug and poured herself a cup of coffee from the already-made pot.

"I assume you're not going to ask how I slept?" Rachel asked.

"I figured that you had not slept well, so I did not bother asking," Ziva responded. Rachel nodded. That was precisely why she came here last night. Ziva didn't ask any question, she just understood. She always had.

"Sorry about last night," Rachel said shifting in her chair. "I was clearly interrupting something,"

"You were not interrupting anything," Ziva turned her back from Rachel, knowing that her eyes would give her away.

Rachel laughed and got up from her chair. She walked over to the kitchen counter and stood beside Ziva. She sat the now empty mug down on the counter and pushed herself up onto the counter.

"C'mon," Rachel whined. "I've always known about you and Tony. Like remember a couple of summers ago we both had a day off during the week and you were going to take me to the beach-" Ziva cut her off.

"Yes, Rachel, I remember,"  
"Well," Rachel chided. "I'm just saying you can tell me, because I already know." Ziva poured a second cup of coffee as she heard Tony get up from the couch. She turned and gave an all-knowing look to Rachel. Under normal circumstances, Rachel would not have let Ziva get away with that. It wasn't how their relationship worked. Rachel played the annoying little sister; it was what she did. These, however, were not normal circumstances. For one thing, Ziva hadn't been herself since the whole Somalia/Israel incident. And for another thing, Ziva had been kind enough to deal with her last night and, even though Ziva would probably disagree, that was a lot to ask.

Tony walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. He was still wearing the same clothes as last night. Rachel noted that it didn't appear that he had ever taken them off. They were wrinkled though, which meant that the position she had found them in this morning was probably the same one as they had spent the entire night.

"Good morning, ladies," Tony said as he took the second cup of coffee out of Ziva's hand.

"Good morning, Tony," Ziva smiled. Rachel hopped off of the counter. She grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, cereal from another, and milk from the refrigerator. Sitting down at the table, she pretended to look interested in the paper as she watched Tony and Ziva's interactions. It was incredible. She had never seen anything like it before, especially not with Ziva. The two of them moved in total sync, anticipating where the other was going just milliseconds before they got there.

Tony, taking a cue from Rachel, grabbed a bowl of cereal and sat down across from Rachel. He studied her for a moment before opening his mouth to finally speak.

"So, Rachel, tell me, why has Ziva been hiding you from me for all of these years?"

"Tony," Ziva scolded, "she is more than fifteen years younger than you! She has only been out of college a few months."

"Oh Zi," Tony laughed. "I didn't mean it that way."

"Yeah, _Zi_," Rachel said imitating Tony's pet name for Ziva, "why haven't I met Tony before? He seems like a pretty nice person." Ziva got up from the counter and poured her coffee in the sink.

"Believe me, Rachel," Ziva said, "I have been doing you a favor." Tony shook his head.

"Well," Tony said outstretching his hand, "it's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Rachel said, shaking his hand. "I'm sorry about last night, I'm not usually so disheveled and irrational, and I certainly don't show up at Ziva's house at ten o'clock on a Friday night without calling first."

Tony nodded. He was unable to dismiss the similarities between Ziva and Rachel. Last night had been visions of Ziva when she first returned from Somalia. She would call him in the middle of the night and beg him, in sobs, to come stay with her or sometimes she would show up at his apartment unannounced and just fall apart in his arms. Either way, by morning she would have suppressed all of her demons and she would be back to almost normal.

"I see," he finally choked out.

It was then that Ziva's cell phone rang. She answered it and nodded a few times. Before hanging up she said, "Of course, Gibbs." Tony looked away from his coffee and up at Ziva.

"Gibbs needs us," Ziva said. "He told me to call you and tell you to report in an hour."

Tony and Ziva both knew that Gibbs always only called one of them whenever they had to come in unexpectedly lately. He was vaguely aware, as Gibbs is aware of almost everything, of what was going on between his two best agents after hours. He just didn't need it shoved in his face. So, he avoided it.

"Zi," Tony asked, "do you mind if I shower,"

"No," she responded. "Go ahead, I did last night." Tony nodded and headed off to Ziva's bedroom. Rachel took this lull in the action as her chance to escape. They had been in the kitchen only a few minutes. She didn't know how much longer Ziva would go without interrogating her. She got up from her chair, emptied her bowl in the sink and headed back to the spare room.

She walked back into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. She didn't know where to go from here. Rachel didn't want to go back to the Agency, she couldn't face her father now, but most off all, she couldn't face going out alone again. It frightened her. She supposed that she just wasn't meant for those solo missions. She needed to know that someone would have her back, that there would be someone looking for her if she didn't come out. The Agency couldn't give her that. They weren't about saving their agents; they were about making sure nobody knew that their agents existed. She felt someone's presence and sat up. Ziva was standing in the doorway.

"So," Ziva said.

"I'll go home while you're at work, Ziva, I promise," Rachel said. Ziva walked over and sat down on the bed with Rachel.

"You do not need to do that," Ziva said quietly. "I can understand the feeling of not wanting to be alone." Rachel got up from the bed and stood in against the bathroom doorway. She put a hand on forehead.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, Ziva," she said and laughed. "I was thinking of maybe moving to Canada and living in a log cabin. I've always wanted to live in the middle of nowhere."

"You cannot run," Ziva said. "When it gets hard, you cannot run." Rachel sank to the ground.

"I made a mistake," Rachel cried. "I'm not strong enough,"

"Rachel!" Ziva said, squatting in front of her. "You are going into hysterics! You _are_ strong enough; you are one of the strongest people that I know . . . you were just afraid, the first time is always the hardest."

Rachel nodded. She believed Ziva, she really did, but the thought of facing her father after she fled the other night was terrifying. She had always thought that her working at the Agency would be the solution to all of their relationship problems. Maybe she was wrong.

(Tony's Point of View)

I arrived at the Navy Yard just a few minutes before Ziva and took the alone time to do some of my own research on Rachel's father. The bullpen was empty, with no sign of McGee or Gibbs.

I have to admit; I was a little shocked and taken aback by the whole thing with Rachel. I couldn't understand why Ziva felt the need to hide her from me all this time. It was clear the way Ziva felt about her and I could sense just how protective she was of her. It was like she was trying to spare Rachel from ending up so broken like her.

After a moment, my search results came up on the computer. Eric Williams. Age fifty three. Title: Director of the Central Intelligence Agency since 1994. Prior to that, he was a field agent with the CIA's office of Special Operations. Black Ops, basically. No wonder he and Eli David got along so well. They both had no problems with throwing their daughters into the fire. I still, though, was stricken by the similarities between Rachel and Ziva. Their fathers, on paper, were the same people. They had risen through the ranks to the top of their respective organizations. And then their daughters, both striving to make daddy proud, had been screwed over. I added Eric Williams to the list of names I say with distaste. Anyone who hurt Rachel, hurt Ziva, and anyone who hurt Ziva had to answer to Anthony DiNozzo.

The elevator dinged and McGee and Ziva emerged. "Morning, Tony," McGee said.

"McGoo," I responded. Ziva sat down at her desk and took her badge from the drawer. I stole a glance at her and noticed how preoccupied she looked.

"Good morning, Zee-vah," I said. "Nice to see you on a Saturday morning." She laughed. Mission accomplished. I looked back down at Director Williams' profile on my computer and quickly closed out of it. Ziva would not appreciate finding that on my computer and there were far too many things around that she could use to kill me.

"Yes, Tony, it is nice seeing you here at the office, isn't it?" Our banter caused McGee to look up from his desk. I don't know how the guy had gotten into MIT if he hadn't caught on by now. "But why are we here?" She asked. "Where is Gi-,"

"Dead marine in Norfolk," Gibbs cut her off. "Gear up,"

"Right, boss," I said, grabbing my gun and badge from the drawer. I leaned over and picked my bag off the floor.

"DiNozzo, David, take the truck." Gibbs threw the keys to Ziva. She caught them with a smirk and winked at me.

I made sure that my seat belt was fastened tightly. Ziva was tense, which meant that the drive to Norfolk would be extremely dangerous today. She put the truck into gear and pulled out of garage. We drove in silence for a while until she pulled onto the highway.

"So," I began, "tell me about Rachel."

"What's to tell?" she asked. I could sense just how far away her mind was. She thought that it was a bad idea exposing me to Rachel. She was panicking.

"I don't know, Zi," I turned towards her. "What's she like? What do you two do together?" She relaxed a little. Realized that I was only trying to help.

"She is very full of life. She always has been. Much different than she was last night. I have never seen her so irrational. I mean, yes, she occasionally breaks down about her father, but it is in a very controlled way. She was so out of control last night."

"You're very protective of her," I observed. I was curious as to how she would react to that statement. She looked at me and then back at the road.

"When I met her," she finally began, "I felt like it was a second chance. I had failed Tali, but I could still be there for Rachel. I see so much of myself in her."

"As do I." She smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel was acting so out of character that she, herself, noticed it. This was so unlike her. First, she runs out of work, then she shows up, unannounced mind you, at Ziva's apartment, she then proceeds to have a mental breakdown in front of someone whom she's never met before, stays the night and, now, unable to stand being in an empty apartment, she shows up Ziva's work. She had _officially_ lost it. The first step is admitting you have a problem, right? At least she had that under control.

The elevator dinged and the doors open, and her escort showed her the way toward the team's bullpen. NCIS did not resemble the CIA, at all. It was a lot more airy and open. The giant room was not surrounded by steel, but rather, had windows that showed a view of the city.

"This is the Major Case Response Team," the escort said, pointing to the squad room. It was empty except for a man sitting at a computer. He was a skinny man with a mushroom like haircut and Rachel realized that this must be the famous Tim McGee that she had heard so much about.

"Hi," he said getting out of his chair and walking towards her. "I'm Special Agent McGee, is there something we can do for you?"

"Umm . . ." Rachel wavered. What was she doing here? Ziva was working. She couldn't just show up here merely because she was so uncomfortable with being alone right now. McGee studied her. "Is Agent or Officer," Rachel didn't even know what she went by now, she wasn't a member of Mossad, but she wasn't a citizen either. "Is Ziva here?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll call her up for you," McGee said, turning back towards his desk. He then stopped, probably realizing he had no idea who he was talking to and turned back to her. "Can I ask your name?"

"Rachel!" A man said walking down the stairs. Rachel turned to see Tony quickly moving down the stairs, he looked concerned to see her here. She wasn't surprised. She had had a mental breakdown in his presence the night before.  
"Everything okay?" he asked, coming to stand in front of her. Rachel became uncomfortable. He was a little too close. She didn't even know him and yet he seemed to be so concerned about her.

"Yeah, no, I mean," she stuttered. "I just… I wanted to see if Ziva," she put her hand on her forehead and look around. This, coming here, was a mistake.

Tony saw her unease and put a hand on her shoulder. He smiled and oddly enough, she felt a little calmer.

"McGee!" he commanded. "Go get Ziva. Tell her Rachel's here."

"Okay," McGee said hesitantly. "Rachel who?"

"McCurious," Tony snapped, "she'll know."

Tony patted his chair and looked toward Rachel. "Want to sit down?" he asked. She nodded and took a seat in his chair. She looked down, afraid of what she would see in him if she looked up. He seemed to be too good at reading people. She wondered why Ziva kept him around. Ziva had never like when people could read her and Rachel felt the exact same way. Tony backed off and took a spot leaning against the empty desk across from his. He pretended to be reading a file, but Rachel felt him look at her every once and awhile.

A moment later, Ziva strode around the corner. McGee and another older man flanked her. He was tall, gray haired and, even though it was nearly three in the afternoon, he had a cup of coffee in his hand. Rachel assumed that he must've been the equally famous Leroy Jethro Gibbs. The man that Ziva regarded as the caring father that she never had. Rachel observed as Tony and Ziva shared a quick glance with each other. Ziva walked right up to her and squatted beside.  
"Are you alright, Rachel?" Ziva asked in a hushed tone.  
"Yeah, yeah," Rachel began. "I'm fine, I'm not really sure why I came, it was a moment of weakness."

Ziva nodded and then looked at Tony. She then looked back at Rachel. "Well," she said, "you are here now, so you should stay a bit."

"I don't want to interrupt anything . . . else," she said.

"Nothing to interrupt," Gibbs said.

"She cracked him when I was gone?" Tony asked, clearly disappointed.

"She did," Gibbs replied with a smile.

Rachel zippered her coat a little higher and stuffed her hands back into her pocket. There was a new bite to the early December wind blowing off the Potomac. She shifted on the bench, feeling eyes on her. The outskirts of the Navy Yard were quiet, most people in DC hated the cold and would've have thought the two woman were crazy for deciding to head outside for a nice chat. Rachel, however, knew that they both we just plain crazy.

She turned slightly towards Ziva and narrowed her eyes. Ziva just continued to look at her.

"Ok," Rachel finally said, throwing her hands up. "Are you going to say something or are you going to just keep staring at me?"

"I was letting you wait until you were ready to say something," Ziva responded, her voice as even as ever. Rachel sighed. It had been quite an afternoon for her. She had showed up at NCIS around lunchtime, thinking that she would ask Ziva if she wanted to go to lunch with her. Not that Rachel was hungry; she had just been growing increasingly uncomfortable in Ziva's empty apartment. She tried to make excuses for herself; telling herself that she was merely bored. It wasn't like there was much to do in Ziva's apartment. Her computer had a security lock on it and she owned few DVDs, that is, except for _The Sound of Music_ and a copy of season two of _Magnum, PI_ which Rachel knew was not hers. But really, Rachel just needed to be around people. She needed someone to look at her and know what was going through her head so she wouldn't have to say it.

Rachel had spent much of the afternoon being introduced to all of Ziva's co-workers. When she arrived at NCIS, all eyes were suddenly on her. Everyone wanted to meet Ziva's friend. They reacted to her as if she was a visiting dignitary. More than that, they were all extremely interested to hear the story of how Rachel and Ziva met and how they kept in touch through years. The team was especially shocked to hear just how much Rachel knew about them.

Abby, the happy Goth forensic scientist, had taken an immediate interest in her and told her that she _must_ come along next time she and Ziva went clubbing. Dr. Mallard was extremely warm and welcoming, as was Tim.

It was Gibbs that really confused Rachel. He was the one that had basically told her that it was okay to stay, yet he didn't say more than two words to her while she was there. He just kept staring at her.

After a few hours of interrogation, Ziva sensed that Rachel was beginning to feel uncomfortable. It was evident to Ziva that she had not come to the Navy Yard for this.

"I don't understand why this is effecting me so much," Rachel admitted quietly. She felt so out of control. Her mission to Prague had been a rough one, to say the least, but she had gotten out of there and that was all that should matter. But, for some reason she felt unable to get by it.

"It was a very traumatic experience for you," Ziva offered.

Rachel took a deep breath and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. "I don't think it was the mission that was so traumatic for me," she began. "I mean, yes, I was, I am disturbed by the way the CIA takes care of their Agents or rather the way that they don't take care of their Agents, but I should have, I should've of known that going in. I _did_ know that going in."

"Then what was so traumatic?" Ziva asked, although she knew full well what had been so traumatic for Rachel. It wasn't that Rachel couldn't handle a high stress situation like being held captive, quite the contrary, she thrived in those kind of situations. It was that she expected to come home to her father's waiting embrace. She expected him to worried sick about her, she expected him to be infuriated that the other agents had taken so long to get to her. Rachel was about to have the realization that Ziva had had in Somalia. Men like their fathers chose country over family, over daughters, _every time_. It was that simple. _She put herself in this; she'll have to get herself out._

"He wasn't scared, he wasn't angry at them, he was mad that I blew my cover. He was mad that they would have to train a new agent to go after that particular arms dealer because my cover had blown." Rachel shook her head in disbelief.

"You wanted him to care more about you than the mission," Ziva said. "You and I both know that it will never work that way, that it never has."

"I just thought that…" Rachel wiped the tears that had begun to fall from her eyes.

"I know," Ziva said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I know."

[Tony's Point of View]

_Tony shed his suit jacket and began to pull off his tie. It had been a fairly quiet day at the office and he sighed in relief when he began to think that maybe, just maybe, things were getting back on track for the team. It had been a week since they had officially closed the murder of Daniel Cryer and sent Officer Ben-Gidon marching back to Israel without Ziva. Tony would be pleased if he didn't have to see good 'ole Malachi for a very long time. _

_He took off his dress pants and put on a pair of his old OSU sweats. It was still early on a Friday night, but he had no desire to go out. Tony collapsed on his couch and turned the TV on. Air Force One was playing, he smiled, he could enjoy a good Harrison Ford flick this evening. _

_The President was in the middle of dodging some enemy MiGs when his doorbell rang. It was nearly eleven. He panicked. He hadn't stood up a date, had he? Who was the last woman he angered? He contemplated grabbing his gun and badge, but then deciding that Gibbs probably wouldn't approve of that, he moved towards the door without them. He opened the door, but found no one standing there. He peered out the doorway and saw a dark haired woman quickly walking away. What exactly was she doing here? _

"_Ziva?" he asked. _

_ She stopped and slowly turned to face him. Her arms were folded across her chest and she kept her head held low. "I am sorry," she said._

_ "I know," he said, thinking she had come to proclaim her trust in him again. She nodded and began walking towards the elevator again. She rounded the corner and Tony realized that the Ziva he knew would not have made a special trip to his apartment just to say she was sorry again. _His _Ziva would have just cornered him in the bathroom the next day. He took off after her. He caught up to her just as she was about to enter the waiting elevator. Tony reached his hand out to stop the doors and grabbed her arm. It caused her to shutter. He had never seen Ziva react this way to his touch. He pulled her out of the elevator and turned her around to face him. _

_ "Something wrong?" he asked._

_ "I should not have come," she responded. _

_ "You should've," he stated. For once, his partner had come to him on her own without him repeatedly begging her to spend time with him outside of work. "Come in with me?" _

_ She nodded and they walked back down the hallway and into his apartment. He led her to the couch and turned off the TV just as Harrison Ford's daughter was telling him that everything would be okay. He sat down on the ottoman of his leather chair and looked at her. It was then that he noticed her eyes were bloodshot, as if she had spent the better part of the evening crying. He sighed; he had never seen her look so broken. _

_ "You never answered my question," he began, not knowing what else to say. It wasn't every day that his favorite ninja, his only ninja, showed up broken on his doorstep. _

_ She looked up at him and their eyes met for the first time. It reminded him of they way they had met just after they had arrived back in the States. After exiting the elevator with the team, Ziva had been engulfed in a hug by Abby and Tony had taken refuge at his desk. He needed to sit there and feel like everything was all right. In the months that he had believed Ziva to dead, his desk was his safe haven. He could sit there, close his eyes, and imagine that when he opened them she would be sitting at her desk staring back at him. _

_The only catch was that every time he closed his eyes, he was eventually forced to open them and each time he did, he found her desk empty. That afternoon, he raced to his desk because to him, it wouldn't be real, she wouldn't be real unless he was watching her from his desk, the way he had done for nearly four years. _

_When he opened his eyes that afternoon, they met hers. But these eyes were different from the ones that had met his for all of those four years. These eyes were dull, these eyes didn't sparkle, these eyes were broken. _

_ Looking at her now, Tony felt the same wave of sadness come over him that he had felt that afternoon in the squad room. It killed him that Ziva was in so pain and he had absolutely no idea how to fix it. _

_ "I do not know how to answer it," Ziva said after a moment of silence between the pair. _

_ Tony put a hand on her knee. "Tell me what you're feeling Zi," he said, his voice soft and low. _

_ She shook her head. "You do not want to hear these things," she said, rising from the couch. "It is late, I must be bothering you." _

_ "You're not bothering me," Tony said, shaking his head, all the while never allowing her eyes to leave his. He held them for a moment until he saw tears began to trickle out of the corner of them. In that instant, he knew that talking was not something they were good at. Their eyes had always communicated far better than their mouths. _

_He took a step forward and to his surprise she made no attempt to run. The trickle of tears from her eyes suddenly grew stronger and her eyes blinked, rapidly trying to prevent the flood that was about to come out of them. He slowly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. He felt her body harden in fear for a moment, but he held his ground and kept her close. Suddenly, she broke in his arms and sobs raked through her entire body. _

_ Their position remained unchanged for the remainder of much of the evening. He merely sat them down on the couch and she curled her self into a ball and tried her hardest to mold herself into him. Tony had never seen her look so small. _

"Tony?" Ziva's voice interrupted Tony's thoughts and he sprang forward in his chair. He shook his head and tried to regain himself. Ziva squinted her eyes at him and smiled.

"Picturing your partner naked?" she asked raising an eyebrow.

"McGee? God no. I would be scarred for life," Tony said trying to deflect her clear interest in his thoughts with a joke. If she had only known what he had been thinking. Ziva didn't appreciate any mention of her breakdowns or a she called them, "weak moments." They rarely happened during day the day and when they did occur at night, in the morning she would act as if they never happened. He, for the most part, went along with her game.

Ziva laughed at his statement about McGee, but she knew he had been thinking about something else. The face he wore when she walked in was not the one he wore when he pictured her, or anyone else, naked. She had an idea as to what he had been thinking about, but she was relieved when he pulled the joke card instead of revealing his thoughts to her.

She sat down at her desk and went to work on her report on the interrogation she had completed earlier that morning. It turns out that the Marine they had found in Norfolk was killed by his bunkmate after the bunkmate found out that he was secretly meeting with his ex – girlfriend.

"How's Rachel?" Tony asked.

"She is okay," Ziva said, continuing to type her report. "She claims that she is going home tonight, but I believe she will make another appearance at my place later tonight. I think she is still in shock."

Tony nodded and went back to the file that he was reading. The Federal government was implementing a new policy for inter-agency transfers. They were allowing only on-the-job training for anyone who had done a nearly identical job at one of the sister agencies. It was a cost-cutting technique; something the federal government had been doing a lot of lately. Tony closed out of the file and moved on to another email. It was then that an idea dawned on him.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So here is my first author's note. I took this story down and tweaked it a bit. I also got myself a beta… (Thank you!) But, now Rachel's back and she is as conflicted as ever. So, read, review, enjoy. And here is my long over due disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.**

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**Chapter Four**

Rachel pulled the pan out of the oven and set it on the counter. It was her third batch of brownies. She thought she would be satisfied after one or even two batches, but she found that even a third hadn't done its usual charm. Baking was Rachel's cure-all. She had always baked all of her troubles away. When her brother died, she had made enough cookies, brownies, and cakes to stock a small bakery. But, this evening, even three batches of blonde brownies couldn't work their usual magic.

She sat down at the piece of granite that she dared to call a kitchen table. Rachel laid her head down on the tabletop and sighed in relief when the coolness of the granite touched her skin. She really had enjoyed meeting all of the people Ziva worked with today. It was evident just how much they cared about her and that was comforting to Rachel. Ziva deserved to be surrounded by people who cared about her. A twinge of sadness stung Rachel as she thought of all of the people who, day in and day out, had Ziva's back. She wanted something like that so badly. She shook her head, the Agency couldn't give her that and she knew that going in, she reminded herself. Rachel would just have to learn to trust herself; to always have her own back.

She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep. Sleeping in bed was out of the question; she would feel too alone. Tears fell from her eyes as she thought about her father. He had been her hero all her life and she had always wanted to be just like him. She used to think what he did was so cool. "My Daddy protects the country," she used to tell all of her friends. But now, she realized that he had never been there to protect her. He had never been the one to put bandages on her skinned knees when she fell off her bike. He had never been the one to run into her room in the middle of the night if she had a nightmare. Her nannies had always done those things because he was never home and, if he was home, he couldn't be bothered by it.

Rachel couldn't remember a time when she had felt loved, truly loved, by her parents. Her mother had left just after Rachel was born. She was unable to deal with Rachel's father's job. He was never around enough for her. Rachel would never be able to understand why her mother didn't take her and Jacob with her. She would never understand why her mother didn't love them enough to take them with her. Rachel hated her mother. She always had.

Jacob had been the only constant in her life. Nannies would come and go, her father would come and go, but Jacob had always been there for her. He was six years older than her and he had been her true protector. One Sunday night, the only night that Rachel and Jacob's live-in nanny had off, seven-year-old Rachel awoke terrified from a nightmare. She had gotten out of bed and gone down to her father's office. He was busy reading through classified documents. She walked over to his chair and climbed up onto his lap. She told him about the terrible dream she had had and asked if she could stay with him for a while.

Irritated by her presence and interruption, he said no. He told her that she was far too old to be roused from bed by a simple dream and sent her back up the stairs. She waited until he was back fully engrossed in his work and then she turned down the hall and walked into Jacob's room. She told him about her dream and he held her tight. He led her back down the hall and into her room. He tucked her into bed and rubbed her back until he was sure that she was fast asleep again.

Jacob's death had put a hole in Rachel's heart. Her only constant, the only person she could always count on to be there for her, had been taken from her. She sometimes felt like her father had taken Jacob from her. Jacob had joined the Marines in an effort to please and make nice with their father. It was the first time that she had seen her father proud of Jacob.

Lying on her kitchen table, Rachel wished that Jacob were here now. She needed him to pick her up, carry her to bed, and rub circles on her back until she fell asleep. He was the only one who understood why Rachel was so hurt by her father, yet again. That is, he was the only one besides Ziva who understood.

Rachel often thought that fate had brought her to her father's office that day. Fate brought Rachel to Ziva, so that when Jacob was gone, there would be someone around to pick up the pieces.

* * *

Tony watched Ziva turn off her computer. He watched as she turned her desk lamp off. He watched her put her coat on. He could see the wheels turning in her head as she preformed the tasks that she did prior to leaving the office each night. She was off in a far distant land, he could see that.

"Goodnight, Gibbs," Ziva said as she gathered her purse onto her shoulder.

"Night, Ziva," Gibbs said, looking up from the paperwork he was doing. "Nice work, today."

Ziva nodded her head in appreciation and walked out from behind her desk. She stopped at the edge of the bullpen and turned towards Tony. He had showed no signs of following her out and she figured that he was still overwhelmed by the events of last night. She had probably scarred him off.

"Goodnight, Tony."  
He looked up from his work and locked eyes with her. He held her gaze for a couple seconds and then responded to her. "Night, Zee-vah," he said. She smiled and walked towards the elevator.

Tony's smile faded as he watched her disappear into the elevator. He wanted to follow her, but he knew Gibbs had questions and he felt obligated to stay and answer them. He also knew that anyone who ended up on Tony DiNozzo's list of names said with distaste, eventually ended up on Leroy Jethro Gibbs' list of the same name.

"Ziver's friend?" Gibbs asked after a few moments of silence. The two men were the only people left in the large squad room. Their respective desk lamps were one of only a few lights on on the floor.

"Rachel Williams," Tony said with just a touch of hesitation. He didn't want to betray the trust that Ziva had placed in him by telling Gibbs about one of the few people who meant so much to her. But it was Gibbs and that fact alone convinced Tony that if Ziva would want anyone besides Tony to know about Rachel it would be Gibbs. "She's not Mossad."

"I gathered that, DiNozzo."

"They're friends, known each other since they were kids. Well, since Rachel was a kid, Ziva was like seventeen or so. She's CIA now. Her father is the director."

"Sounds familiar."

"It gets more familiar, Boss," Tony said getting up and walking towards Gibbs' desk. He leaned against McGee's desk and crossed his arms. "She just got back from an Op in Prague; her first international assignment. They sent her to observe an arms dealer alone without back up and she got caught. They nearly killed her. So I guess when she got home, Daddy dearest wasn't pleased with her performance."

"Friends with Eli Dah-vid?" Gibbs asked. Director David had the privilege of being a member of the Gibbs-DiNozzo names said with distaste list. He, in Tony's opinion, had definitely earned that membership.

"Not sure, Ziva didn't mention anything about their relationship. The two are like identical on paper, though. Not to mention, the similarities between Rachel and Ziva are striking." Tony immediately regretted the last statement as it escaped his mouth.

"Are they, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked raising an eyebrow. "Not your first time meeting Rachel, was it today?"

"Well, I, uh, we were," Tony stuttered, scratching the back of his head. "It's a long story, Boss."

"It always is," Gibbs said enjoying watching his Senior Field Agent flounder. He knew that something was going on between David and DiNozzo. He had always known, and so far the two had done a remarkable job of keeping it out of the office. So, he let Rule Twelve slide for a while. "Get out of here, DiNozzo."

"Ok, Boss," Tony said scrambling back towards his desk. He grabbed a piece of paper off the printer and slid it onto Gibbs' desk. "I was just thinking, Boss, it, uh, worked out well last time we had a liaison from another agency."

Gibbs nodded and scanned the paper that detailed the federal government's new policy for inter-agency transfers. He shook his head as he watched Tony exit the bullpen.

"Hey, DiNozzo," he yelled as Tony approached the elevator. Tony sighed and jogged back towards the bullpen.

"Yeah, Boss?" he asked.

"Keep an eye on her."

"Who? Rachel?" Tony asked. "Ziva?"

"Both of them," Gibbs replied.

Tony nodded and headed back towards the elevator. He wasn't sure, but he thought, in his own way, he had just received Gibbs' blessing, or at least his approval.

* * *

_Ziva sat, wrapped tightly in a blanket, on her couch or rather she sat, curled up into the smallest ball possible, on her couch. She buried her head into a pillow and let silent tears fall from her eyes. She had just woken up from her most vivid dream yet. Saleem had not only killed Tony and McGee, but prior to doing so, he had forced them to watch him abuse her body once more. _

_Ziva had awoken just as Saleem was about to finally kill her. She had been back in DC for almost two months now and she been living in this apartment for nearly a month and a half. During that month and half, she had only slept in her new bed once. Most nights, she preferred the couch. She felt safer on the couch. She felt less exposed and it was easier to curl up into a ball and protect herself on the couch. But tonight, not even the couch felt like a safe enough place for her. _

_She dug her head further into the pillow, hoping that eventually it would just consume her. Ziva's heart was still racing from the dream. She wasn't yet sure that she in fact had woken up. Could this all just be an illusion? Was she merely dreaming and still stuck in that small, dirty cell? Had Tony not come for her? The silent tears that had been creeping down her cheek slowly gained momentum, until she was full-on sobbing. _

_She rocked herself back and forth in an effort to sooth herself, but it did nothing. She continued to shake. She was terrified. This must've been a cruel illusion. She was still stuck in Somalia, and any minute Saleem or his men would return and have their way her with. The idea of more humiliation scared her beyond belief and she tried to prove to herself that she had made out. She knew, however, that only one thing could soothe her now that she was so far gone. Ziva needed to hear his voice. _

_She reached for her phone and dialed his all too familiar number. It rang and then it rang again. She panicked. He was probably with a woman. It was a Saturday night and the team did have the weekend off. _

"_Hello," he said just interrupting the third ring and she froze. He pulse accelerated again and the shaking resumed. "Ziva?" he asked. He wasn't asking if it was her. He knew she was on the other end of the line. _

_She tried her hardest to gather herself and simply tell him that she dialed him on accident but she was unable to. "C-C-Can you," she stuttered as more sobs took over her body. _

"_Zi," he said quietly and she suddenly noticed that she couldn't hear any background noises around him. "I'll come, I'm coming." She didn't respond, but rather continued to breathe heavily into the phone. It was all she could do. "Want me to stay on the phone 'till I get there?" he asked. This time she had to answer; she had to keep some of whatever dignity she had left. _

"_I will… I will be okay," she said and slowly closed her phone. She hoped that he hadn't taken the last statement to mean that she didn't need him to come, because it was quite the opposite. She felt that, without his presence, Saleem would possibly come back from the dead and kill her right then and there. _

_Tony arrived at her apartment in record time, though it had felt like a small eternity to Ziva. She heard a key go into her lock and watched from the couch as the doorknob turned. She hadn't remembered giving him a key, but she was in no place to figure out how he had gotten one. _

_He slowly opened her door and paused in the doorway. Their eyes met and he suddenly saw how scared she looked. He shut and locked the door behind him. He cautiously walked towards her and her heart rate began to accelerate. He had learned from their last encounter like this that starting off with questions got him nowhere. Tony sat down beside her on the couch and he slowly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him. She buried her head in his chest and loud sobs overtook her body. _

_He rubbed small circles on her back and pressed a kiss on her hair. He hoped that she couldn't feel his arms shake as held her. Her current state scared him beyond belief. She was crumbling right before his eyes and he wasn't sure just how to put her back together. _

_He held her close for what felt like hours. Eventually the sobs had subsided and her breathing became more regular. The arms that had gripped him so tightly slowly loosened and he figured she had fallen asleep. Tony wasn't sure if he should move her, so he spread the blanket so that it covered both of them and put a pillow behind his head. He wrapped his arms back around her and closed his eyes. Tony felt like he had very little to be grateful for this summer. He felt like he had lost everything. But now, he had everything to be grateful for. Not only did he find her, alive, but she had forgiven him for what he had done. She had put her trust back in him and when she needed someone to hold her, she called him. _

Ziva sat on her couch, curled up with a blanket wrapped around her. She held her phone in her hand. She wanted to call him. He had definitely left the Navy Yard by now. It was almost eleven o'clock.

She shouldn't call him. It would be too forward. The events of the previous evening with Rachel had probably scared him off. He could handle one damaged, broken woman, but not two and he shouldn't have to.

But she missed him. She wanted him to envelop her in his arms and twirl strands of her hair around his fingers. Up until last night, she thought she had chased many of her post-Somalia demons away. But last night had brought them back; all of them. She turned the TV on and flipped through the channels. There was nothing good on.

She sighed and rose from the couch, keeping the blanket tightly wrapped around her. She opened the cabinet the held her DVD player and placed a disk inside of it. If she couldn't be with him, she would at least spend her time with something that reminded her of him. She sat back down on the couch and sighed as the opening credits to _Magnum, PI_ filled the screen.

Her eyes had grown heavy and she was almost asleep when she heard a soft knock at her door. She rubbed her eyes and slowly rose from the couch. She checked that her knife was still tucked in her waist, it was. She didn't bother grabbing her weapon; she had a feeling that it was Rachel on the other side of the door. She gave the girl credit, she had lasted almost eight hours.

Ziva looked through the peephole in her door and her heart skipped a beat when she found Tony, rather than Rachel, standing there. She took a second and gathered herself before opening the door.

"Hey, Sweet cheeks," his smile was soft but wide.

"Tony," she stammered. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't I come see my favorite ninja after work?" he asked, slowly inching towards.

"I just, I assumed that you had been scared off after last night."

Tony shook his head and took another step forward. She didn't think he wasn't coming in, did she? "Zi, one upset mini-ninja isn't enough to scare Anthony DiNozzo away."

She nodded and stepped back in the doorway, allowing him in. He followed her in and watched as she disappeared back towards the couch. Tony set his keys down on her counter and left his phone with them. He walked into her living room and sat down next to her on the couch. It was then that he noticed just what she had been watching.

"You were watching Magnum?" he asked, his voice a mixture of chide and surprise.

"There was nothing else on," she explained. She scooted towards him and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her even closer. Her hair was held off her face by a cotton headband and he ran his hands through her dark curls.

"You didn't think I was coming," he stated.

He waited, but she did not respond. He took this as time to just let her be. He was here now and that was answer enough to whatever questions she was asking herself. Tony wondered if Rachel had been by or even if she was in the guest bedroom, but he didn't ask. He wanted it to be about them, about _her_, right now.

They finished the episode that had been playing and she shifted in his arms so that she was facing him. She noted that he was still in the grey suit he had worn all day at work. A twinge of disappointment hit her; he wasn't planning on staying the night.

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

"May I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Why do you come? I mean, for practically the last two months, you have spent every night, except, of course, the nights we spend at the office, with me."

"Do you really want to know the answer?" he asked, voice now low and serious.

Her stomach turned into a knot. Perhaps she did not want to know the answer. He probably came out of pity, obligation. Either way, she had to know.

"Yes," she murmured.

"Well," he began, a small smirk coming across his face, "there are two answers, there's the short one, and then there's the long one. Which would you like first?" He was playing with her and he knew she was probably thinking a litany of self-deprecating thoughts, but if he stopped playing with her he would be giving in, in some twisted way, to those bastards from the desert.

"Tony . . ."

"You got to pick one, Ziva."

"I want the short one first," she said. She turned slightly and looked away from him. Ziva didn't want him to see the look on her face when he told her he felt like he had to spend time with her. She didn't want him to see her heart break.

"The short answer, Zi," Tony said, taking her hand from the burrows of the blanket, "is that I love you. The long one is that when I'm not with you, I want to be, and when I am with you, there's nowhere else on the planet I'd rather be. When someone you're in love with dies, Ziva, you realize that you wish you could've spent more time with them. You realize that you'd never again get to feel them in your arms. But then when you realize that that person isn't actually dead, you decide that you will do everything and anything to keep them with you for the rest of your life."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Ziva could not process what she had heard. She thought that the love she felt for Tony was only one way. She figured that he would never love her that way that she loved him. Even if he did, she figured that she had ruined any of her chances with him with Michael. But now, now her heart raced. Her cheeks were on fire and she was vaguely aware of the thumb that was slowly rubbing her hand.

Tony felt like he had made the biggest mistake of his life. He should've just deflected her question with humor. He was good at that and she expected it from him. But no, Anthony DiNozzo had to go all Romantic Drama on her. It wasn't even award winning, either. It was just sappy. But he meant it. Oh, he meant every last syllable. He feared he had scared her off. He couldn't of just enjoyed where they were right now? He couldn't just enjoy her in his arms?

Ziva was the one to finally break the silence. She slowly turned to face him. Fear flooded both of their eyes. She looked down at his hand holding hers just as she opened her mouth to speak.

"I am very damaged," she warned.

It wasn't the first time she had said this to him, but it was the first time she had said it when she _knew_ that he was listening. He didn't know what she meant by that. Or, at least, he tried to convince himself he didn't know. How could he not know, though? I mean as much as it disturbed him to put two and two together, he did. Three months, the only woman in a camp full of men, evil men. Yeah, knew what she meant by that statement, but he didn't agree with it. And it certainly didn't make him love her or want to love her any less. Nothing could change that.

"No you're not," he growled. She was surprised that he didn't ask just what she meant that statement. Ziva had given him enough reason to. From the late night appearances at his door, to the frantic phone calls where she couldn't even find the words to tell him what was wrong; Ziva had given Tony plenty of reasons to believe she was damaged and badly, at that.

She wanted desperately for him to ask how she was damaged. She wanted him to ask why she would think such a thing, but he didn't ask. Tony simply wrapped the blanket around the two of them and pulled her as close as he possibly could. He didn't say a word after the three he had just barely choked out. And she knew exactly why. He didn't need to ask her why she felt the way she did or why she said the things she did, he already knew.

* * *

It was early Sunday morning when Rachel decided she needed to get out of her apartment again. She had spent a good fifteen hours there; she figured that was good enough. Rachel decided she would go for a run. Maybe running would clear her head and allow her to put this all behind her. It was a rather warm day for the District in December and she ran comfortably without her jacket.

Rachel jogged at a slow pace for a while. She couldn't seem to find her stride. She ran past the Capital and the White House and headed towards the National Mall. Early mornings were Rachel's favorite time to run. She could run past all of her favorite things, the reasons why she loved living in Washington so much, in peace. The crowds of tourist that would eventually surround her favorite landmarks were not out and about yet.

Reaching the Lincoln Memorial, she ran up the steps and took in the view. It was her favorite. She sat down on one of the top steps and watched as other runners ran up the steps and then back down them. She wondered if Lincoln knew that one day he would have a stately monument doting an enormous statue of himself. She wondered if he knew it would be a hit among both tourists and local runners. There was nothing quite like having to run up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial after completing half of your run. After a moments rest, Rachel got up again. She ran down the steps with a little more spark in each stride and took off back towards the Capitol.

Rachel was back on Pennsylvania Ave when she began to feel anxious again. She stole a glance over her shoulder but was comforted when she found no one trailing her. She shook her head, of course there was no one following her, she was in DC not Prague. She wasn't in Prague.

Rachel rounded the corner and picked up her pace as the door to her apartment building came into view. She looked behind herself again; there was no one there once again, but she couldn't shake the idea that someone was following her. Her heart rate accelerated far past the point that would be considered beneficial to one's health. She considered by passing her apartment altogether and running all the way to Georgetown. If anyone could take down someone following Rachel, it would be Ziva. But there was no one following Rachel so, she told herself that once she got upstairs, she would feel safe again.

She entered the building and ran up the marble stairs. Before this whole debacle, she had absolutely loved her apartment building. It was so stately. What twenty two year old lived in the same apartment building as Senators and Congressional workers? But now, she felt like it just symbolized her father's corruption and how he attempted to buy her love. She reached a landing and turned down a small hallway. Her apartment was a corner one. She unlocked her door and slipped inside.

Rachel walked into her bathroom and locked the door behind her. She turned the shower on and waiting a minute for it to warm up. She was about to step into the shower when she couldn't remember whether or not she had bolted her front door. Rachel pulled her white robe from the hook and slipped it over her now shivering body. Tying the terrycloth belt, she slipped out of the bathroom and padded towards the front door. It seemed that she had, in fact, locked every single bolt on her door. She starred at the door for a moment, trying to cement the picture of the locked bolts in her mind. After a moment, she turned and headed back to the bathroom. She took her robe off and slipped into the shower.

Fifteen minutes later she emerged from the shower. Her eyes were wet, not from the shower, but from the tears that she had allowed herself to shed in the confines of the shower. Tomorrow was Monday and tomorrow she would have to face everyone at the Agency. Everyone, including, her father. She would have to face her father tomorrow and she didn't know just what she was going to say.


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter is really long but I think you'll enjoy it. Review please!**

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**Chapter Five**

It had been almost three days since Ziva had heard from Rachel and she was becoming very concerned. It was unlike Rachel to just go radio silent like this. She, now knowing what it felt like, felt badly for occasionally disappearing on Tony this fall. It was not enjoyable to just sit and worry.

Ziva looked back at her computer screen. She could always have McGee get a location of Rachel's cell phone. She shook her head. That would be going too far. Rachel was a big girl; she could take care of herself. The former assassin wondered if that was what Tony told himself when she had done similar things this past fall.

She looked up from her computer screen and stole a glance at him across the squad room. He was intently focused on the file in his hand. They were working cold cases, again; something Ziva hated. They were tedious and usually yielded nothing; except for respectable work hours, that is. Last night, Monday, Gibbs had sent them home at only half past four. McGee asked if they thought Gibbs' clock was wrong. The MCRT _neve_r left the office before five; it was an unwritten rule. Nevertheless, when Gibbs said, "Get out of here," they all did just that.

McGee declined Tony's offer to head to the bar together, something the three of them hadn't done in ages. Ziva figured that he went home to continue work on the adventures of L.J. Tibbs, Tommy and Lisa. Or, at least, that was what she said to Tony. She suspected that McGee had thought that he would be a third wheel if he joined Tony and Ziva, though, Ziva would have to assure him later, that would never be the case. She had silently acknowledged to Tim that, yes, there in fact was something going on between her and Tony outside of the office. She didn't say what exactly and McGee didn't ask. Once the elevator doors opened, he acted as if he had heard nothing and that was why she was okay with telling him.

Ziva wanted to go to Rachel's apartment and check on her, but remembering the nagging desire to be alone, she decided against it. Instead, she and Tony headed to the Thai restaurant just down the street from her apartment and got take-out. They ended up sitting on her couch and renting the newly released _Inception_.

Ziva told Tony some more stories of her and Rachel, notably the time that she had picked drunken Rachel up from a boy's dorm room at the University of Maryland and when she found out that Rachel's brother had died in Iraq. Tony was surprised to hear that it was during the same time, Ziva had been working with Jenny Sheppard in Paris. He wondered what he would have thought of Ziva back then if he had known more of that side of her, rather than the flirty, confident Mossad assassin. He wondered if she had thought about Rachel as they stood under the over hang of the hotel that rainy night when they'd first met. Ziva herself was only hours away from killing her own brother.

Ziva's phone vibrated in her pocket, breaking her trance. She pulled it out and opened it, revealing a text message from Rachel. _I quit_, it merely stated. Ziva's eyes went wide. What had she taught this girl? She panicked. Rachel's life was becoming a carbon copy of Ziva's. She closed the phone and put it back in her pocket. She _had_ to stop this. Rachel would most certainly regret this decision. The CIA was where she wanted to be, where she _should_ be. This incident in Prague was merely a bump in the road. It was just something to show Rachel that she had to be more careful, that this job wasn't going to help her win her father.

"Something wrong, Probette?" Tony asked, trying to mask his actual concern with his favorite new nickname for Ziva.

Ziva didn't answer at first. She wasn't sure what to say. Something was definitely wrong, but she didn't know if she wanted to tell Tony. She was beginning to worry that her life was becoming too much of an open book. Ziva trusted Tony. She did. But she didn't trust herself. She didn't trust that if something went wrong between her and Tony she would be able to make it through. Tony was her lifeline; something she had never needed before.

She shook her head at him and tried to resume work. They continued work for almost another hour.

* * *

At a quarter to six, Gibbs sent his team home. He had been watching Ziva all afternoon. Something was bothering her. Gibbs, though, had decided to leave her alone. He figured that her unease had something to do with Rachel Williams and it seemed that Tony wanted to handle that situation. So, Gibbs let him.

The old gunny watched as his team packed up. They each grabbed their respective coats and back packs and locked up their respective badges and weapons. The three of them bid farewell to their boss and walked towards the elevator together. Gibbs smiled. He was glad to have his team back together. The past summer without Ziva had been extremely trying for all them. It was easy to point to Tony as the one who had suffered the most during those months, but it had been hard on Gibbs, too.

Ziva was like a daughter to him and losing her had been like losing Kelly and Kate all over again. He had lost his only biological daughter. Then, almost fifteen years later, he lost Kate. Losing Ziva would have been the final straw. But even when he had heard that the _Damocles_ had sunk and that there were no survivors, he didn't believe that she was among them. It was too simple a death for Ziva. If she was going to go out prematurely, it was going to be with a bang, not on a sunken cargo ship. And then when they found her weakened form in the desert; Gibbs' heart had nearly broken as he watched her tremble through the flight back to DC. He vowed right then and there to keep her safe and to keep her here, with them. He had to say that, so far, he had been able to do that and he hoped that Officer Ben-Gidon had delivered his message to Director David. Ziva was off limits and she would stay that way.

Now, there was this Rachel Williams; a part of Ziva that none of them had known about. Nevertheless, she was clearly very important to Ziva and her distress meant that Ziva was in distress and that bothered Gibbs. He just hadn't finished forming his plan to alleviate that stress.

* * *

Tony and Ziva said goodbye to McGee in the parking lot and walked towards their cars. Ziva kept checking her phone as they walked in silence. Tony was worried about her. Saturday night had shown that this thing with Rachel was taking a toll on her. It was bringing back all the demons that Tony had thought were long suppressed.

"What happen with Rachel?" he asked casually as they arrived at her car.

"Huh?" Ziva asked.

"Isn't that why you had a mini panic attack at your desk earlier?"

"Oh," she said. "It was nothing,"

"Seemed like something . . ." he offered.

Ziva shifted her weight, contemplating what she could say to get him off her case. She was battling a war between her heart and her brain. One begging her mouth to tell him everything and allow him to try and fix it for her and the other telling her that she had let him too close to begin with and although he had seemingly professed his love for her the other night, she was scared.

"Rachel just made a rash decision," she said.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked. "What'd see do?"

"Tony," Ziva said turning slightly away from him and towards her driver's side door. "I should go check on her."

Tony nodded and watched as she unlocked her car and got in. She was making a conscious effort not to look at him as she let her car heat up. Ziva had been especially distant from him today. Tony was confused. They, if you took out Rachel's breakdown, had had a really nice weekend together. He thought she had appreciated what he had said to her on the couch. I mean, she had all but asked him if he loved her.

She was pulling out of the space when Tony decided that this couldn't go on. He leaned over and tapped on her window. She sighed and took her foot off the gas pedal. Rolling her window down, she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Can I come?" he asked. Her eyes showed a brief sign of panic and she went to open her mouth to object, but he cut her off. "I won't come into Rachel's with you; I just want to talk to you on the ride over."

Ziva paused, but then nodded in consent. Tony flashed one of his thousand-watt smiles and ran around to the passenger side of her car. She unlocked the door and he hopped in.

They drove out of the Navy Yard in silence and it wasn't until they pulled onto the Southeast freeway that Tony decided to speak.

"You've been kind of distant today," he mentioned.  
"I was not trying to be."

Tony noticed how controlled her driving was. He was surprised. He figured they would have at least four close calls on the way to Rachel's, but they were almost halfway there and the drive had been almost peaceful. Her eyes stayed on the road and he noticed just how tightly she was gripping the wheel.

"It's not a big deal," he said. "I figured Rachel was weighing heaving on your mind."

She only nodded and then stole a glance at him. Her eyes were met by his and it pained her to look back to the road. She had always felt so comfortable in his eyes. It was a place where all of her fears were washed away.

"May I admit something to you?" she asked, once her eyes were fixed back on the road in front of them.

"You never have to ask, Zi," he responded.

"This thing we are doing, trying to be something, it is something that I want desperately to work." She pulled off the freeway and her car came to a stop at a red light.

"Me too, Ziva," he responded, putting a hand on her arm.

"I know," she said. "That is not what I am saying,"

"What _are_ you saying?" he asked.

"We have always had each others backs," she began, "in everything, not just on the job, although it seems that whatever has gone wrong in our personal lives is somehow related to our job." It was true, he agreed. Corporal Damon Worth for her. Jeanne Benoit for him. Michael Rivkin for her. It seemed that, try as they might, they were always unable to escape their jobs and it's effects. "But that is not the point; the point is that we have always caught each other when things have gone wrong. Who is going to catch _us_ if this goes wrong, if _we_ go wrong?"

"You're scared," he responded.

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Aren't you?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I am, but I have a good feeling about this, I really do. We just have to trust each other, I guess." The light turned green and her foot pressed the gas pedal.

"I trust you, Ziva," he said, sincerity in his voice that often she was only privy to. "Do you trust me?"

"I trust you with my back_ and _my heart," she said, lifting a hand off the steering wheel to wipe a tear from her eyes. Tony let a small smile escape his lips. This was a big deal for them. It wasn't often that they had such candid conversations, though they were certainly becoming more frequent. Tony meant what he said to Ziva. He really did believe that they could, would work. They had already survived so much. What more could the game of _Life _throw at them that they couldn't handle?

"As do I," he responded, he leaned over in his seat and kissed her gently on the cheek.

She promptly wacked the back of his head with the palm of her hand. "That could have caused me to hit someone," she scolded. Tony laughed.

Ziva pulled into a parallel parking spot just outside Rachel's apartment building. She turned the engine off and then turned to face Tony. In this instance, she wanted nothing more than to curl up against him and just revel in his presence.

Right now, though, she had to go talk some sense into Rachel. Ziva wanted Tony to come with her, but she didn't know if it would be fair to do that to Rachel. Though she seemed to appreciate his presence Friday night, she had only met him that once.

"I should not be too long," she told him.

"Take your time," he responded. "I'll just play Tetris on my phone." She rolled her eyes at him and then handed him the keys. She pushed the door of her car open and stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Hey, Zi," Tony called after him.

"Yes, Tony?" She asked.

"I'm glad we talked."

"Me too."

* * *

Rachel was pulled out of her deep slumber by a faint knocking on her front door. She sighed and pulled the covers over her head. She didn't want to talk to anyone right now. Rolling onto her stomach, she attempted to sink further into her mattress. She just wanted to go back to sleep. Rachel wanted to fall asleep and wake up and realize that this all had been a dream. It had all just been one big nightmare; nothing more.

Today certainly hadn't gone well for Rachel. She had woken up early and gone for a run. After running only a half a mile, she felt as if someone had been following her and turned home. Once she arrived home, Rachel realized that she no longer wanted to live in fear, of anything. She showered, dressed, and drove herself down the familiar George Washington Parkway to Langley.

Upon arriving, she bypassed all of her superiors and went straight to her father's office. Laying her badge down on his desk, she told him, with tears streaking down her cheeks, that he had made a mistake and that this wasn't for her. He nodded and simply said that he had known all along that she wasn't cut out for _his _line of work. His words cut a small hole in her heart and she found that she could no longer bear to look at him. Nodding, she exited his office and made her way out of the building as fast as she could.

Rachel spent the twenty-five minute drive back to her apartment in a variety of states of emotions. She cried. She sobbed. She screamed. She begged. She cried again. She wasn't even sure how she made it back to her apartment, but she did and, upon arriving, she shed her clothes, put on her favorite sweatpants and climbed into bed. Somewhere between getting into her car and falling onto her mattress, she had texted Ziva. It was only a little after ten in the morning.

The knocking on the door grew louder and more rapid and Rachel sat up in bed, realizing she would not be left in peace. Her cell phone vibrated on her nightstand, lighting up the black room. She sighed in defeat and reached for it. She had six missed calls. One from her team leader; another from her supposed partner, Tyler; and four from Ziva. Taking a deep breath, she tried to gather herself before going to the door. Ziva had already seen her fall apart once; she didn't need to see it again.

As she rose from the bed, Rachel realized that the knocking had suddenly come to a stop. She froze in her spot as she heard a faint noise come from the front of her apartment. Taking another deep breath, she moved to hide in the closet. Evidently, the men from Prague had returned to take their revenge on her. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her head. The floor of her bedroom creaked as the figure slowly entered the room. Rachel's heart rate accelerated and her breathing became labored. The figure approached the closet and slowly opened the doors. Trying to delay the inevitable, Rachel attempted to burrow her head further between her legs.

"It's me," the figured whispered and Rachel, recognizing the voice, slowly began to relax. She raised her face so that her eyes could meet Ziva's.

Ziva squatted down to her level and sighed. It seemed the situation was graver than she had originally thought. She cupped Rachel's face in her hand and brushed in thumb across her cheek.

"I thought you were someone else," Rachel admitted, wiping tears away from her eyes.

"Who did you think I was?" Ziva asked, coming to sit next to Rachel in the closet.

"It was irrational," Rachel shook her head.

"That does not mean that it did not feel real," Ziva responded.

"I thought that someone, I thought that someone was here to get me," Rachel admitted in a whisper so quiet that Ziva nearly missed it. "I should've known you would pick the lock."

"You gave me a key when you moved in," Ziva responded.

"I forgot," Rachel admitted.

"Do you feel better?" Ziva asked. Rachel knew that she was not referring to whether or not she had relaxed from her mini panic attack but to the events that had transpired early in the day.

"No," Rachel said, her voice cracking. "I feel worse."

"Would you like to tell me what happened?"

"I quit and he told me he knew I couldn't handle _his_ line of work and then I just left." Rachel's wall broke again and she cried into Ziva's shoulder.

Ziva held Rachel close to her and let her cry. It was strange to be on the other side; to be the one doing the comforting as opposed to being the one comforted. She liked feeling powerful and in control again, but at the same time she felt suffocated. The closet was too small. It was too dark. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and took a deep breath. She could do this.

"Let us get you out of the closet," Ziva rose slightly and pushed the closet door open further.

Rachel nodded and the two crawled out of the small space. Ziva stood to her feet, but turned to find that Rachel had simply moved to lean against the closet door. Her head down, she showed no sign of getting off of the floor.

"Have you eaten?" Ziva asked.

Rachel shook her head. In truth, she hadn't eaten since the bowl of cereal at Ziva's apartment Saturday morning. She hadn't been hungry. She hadn't really been anything, except lost and a mess. "There's a bunch of brownies in the kitchen, though."

"I think you need something other than desert," Ziva stated. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her phone. "When was the last time you ate, anyway?"

"Saturday," Rachel murmured.

"How does a pizza sound?"

"I'm fine, Ziva, really. I'd rather not have someone knocking on the door."

"We have our own delivery boy," Ziva answered with a smirk.

* * *

Tony reclined his seat further back in Ziva's car. He was getting antsy. It wasn't that he minded waiting for Ziva; he'd already determined that he'd wait an eternity for her. It was more that he was concerned. He knew that helping Rachel was very important to Ziva, but he also knew that it caused her a lot of pain. It forced her to relive things that she was barely over.

Tony picked his phone up and scrolled through the contacts. For a brief second, he thought about texting McGee, but then he dismissed the thought. He wouldn't want McGee thinking too highly of himself. He had enough dirt on Tony to last him a lifetime. From the comment in the desert to the one in the evidence garage, Tim didn't need anything else.  
Suddenly, the screen on his phone changed and his ringer sounded. Tony's heart missed just a single beat when her name came onto the screen. He paused and then answered.

"Anthony DiNozzo."

"Want to do me a favor?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I ordered a pizza from Joe's down the street."

"I'll go get it," he responded.

"Thank you," she said before hanging up. "Rachel is Unit 8."

* * *

Tony decided to walk the quarter of a mile to Joe's Pizza rather than lose the nice parking spot Ziva had just outside the door to Rachel's apartment. It only took him twenty minutes to walk there and back. He walked up the steps towards the door and then hit the buzzer to be let in. Ziva's voice came on the intercom and she unlocked the door for him. He opened the door and walked up the stairs, counting the doors as he went.  
As far as apartment buildings go, this was a nice one and Anthony DiNozzo had been through plenty of apartment buildings, both on and off the job. There was a small entryway that revealed a large marble staircase. He walked up two flights of stairs and then turned the corner at the landing. As Tony walked down the small hallway, he realized he didn't know where to go from here. Was he to hand the pizza to Ziva and then leave? He didn't want to intrude on whatever they were talking about, yet he _really_ wanted to be with Ziva. She had been so distant all day that he was, for lack of a better word, having withdrawals.

He lifted the knocker and let it fall down hard onto the door. He then lifted it again and allowed it to fall once more.

The door opened slowly to reveal Ziva. She smiled at him, but he stayed stationary, unaware of whether to come in or not.

"Are you going to come in?" she asked.

"Am I supposed to?" he countered, raising an eyebrow.

"Tony, I would not have sent you to get food if I did not want you to eat with us," she crossed her arms. "That would have been rude of me."

"I would've have still gone," Tony said, following her into the kitchen. He set the box of pizza down on the table and turned to look at Ziva. He found himself captivated by her as he watched her remove plates and cups from the cabinets.

"Where's Rachel?" he asked.

"She just got out of the shower. She had a very rocky day." Tony smiled at her mistaken use of an American idiom, but decided not to correct her.

"Define _rocky_."

"She quit."

"She quit the CIA?"

"Yes, and then her father told her that he knew she could not handle _his _line of work."

"Bastard," Tony muttered under his breath.

"When I arrived, she was hiding in the closet. She thought I was someone here to kill her," Ziva continued, unaware of the quiet conversation Tony was having with himself.

Tony's eyes went wide when he heard what Rachel had been thinking when Ziva arrived. It was beginning to scare him how identical the two's experiences had been. Panic attacks were something Ziva had had quite often this fall. At one point, he found her alone in Autopsy, curled up in a ball against the wall. When he approached, she yelled at him in Arabic. She later explained that she had thought he was one of Saleem's men, finally coming to kill her.

Tony's thoughts were interrupted by the presence of a new person in the room. He looked away from Ziva and found Rachel leaning against the entryway to the kitchen. Her arms folded across her chest, she was in a Georgetown sweatshirt and matching flannel pajamas.

"Hoya Paranoia," he said, in effort to get her to smile. She did and a chuckle accompanied it.

"_Way_ before my time."

"Before mine too," he added. She nodded and came to sit at the table.

"What is _hoya paranoia_?" Ziva asked, setting three plates on the table.

"Do you want this one?" Tony asked, looking towards Rachel.

Rachel shook her head. "You probably know better than I do."

"Well, in the late seventies, the Georgetown Hoya basketball team was so good that basically everyone in the NCAA was afraid to play them –and so Hoya Paranoia was born."

"That is all?" Ziva asked.

"Yup, that's it."

"Oh," Ziva stammered. "I assumed it would be something more interesting,"

Rachel smiled. She was glad that Ziva had asked Tony to come eat with them. Their interactions were very interesting to watch and for a few moments it allowed Rachel to forget the trials of her day. They ate the large box of pizza and then proceeded to delve into the brownies that Rachel had made the day before. Having put something in her stomach, Rachel felt a little bit better.

"I guess I'll have to find a new job," Rachel sighed as Ziva made her a cup of tea.

"The CIA will take you back," Ziva told her. Mossad would certainly take her back, if she allowed them to. So, she bet that the CIA would take Rachel back.

"I don't think I want to go back," Rachel admitted. "I mean, I can probably find work at an embassy, with all the languages I know."

"You do not want to do that, you will get bored."

"Hey, Ziva," Tony interrupted. "Did you get the policy change email the other day?"

"Yes, why?" Ziva asked, confused as to why the latest change in federal agency policy had anything to do with Rachel working for the CIA.

"Well," he began. "I mean, it worked out last time we added someone to the team."

"I do not think that you can classify the addition of Agent Lee as something that worked out well, Tony."

"I wasn't referring to that time, Zee-vah, I was referring to the one before that."

"Me?" Ziva asked, pointing to herself in disbelief.

"You."

"You want Rachel to join NCIS?" She asked.

"I _may_ have mentioned it to Gibbs . . ."

"You asked _Gibbs_ if Rachel could join NCIS?"

"Well, specifically the MCRT, but he had taken an interest, so I went for it."

"Should I leave you two alone?" Rachel asked, interrupting.

"No," they answered in unison.

"Okay, then," Rachel said. She didn't know what to think. She wanted to join NCIS. I mean, Ziva looked so happy there, but she didn't want to intrude and she wasn't even sure if she could handle that kind of work again. Would she be forever looking over her shoulder?

"So, what did Gibbs say?" Ziva asked, placing her hands on her hips.

"You know the Boss; he said something vague and then I ran away." Tony took a step toward Ziva.

Ziva starred him down for a moment and then took a step towards him. "You are lying."

"I'm not!"

"You are," she said. "What did Gibbs say after you suggested putting Rachel on the team?"

"You don't want to know," he smirked.

"I have my weapon on me and we're in a kitchen," she reminded him.

"Nice use of a contraction, sweet cheeks," he said in an effort to distract her.

"Tony!"

"I don't know, Zi, he said something like 'keep an eye on her'."

"Rachel?"

"Yeah." Tony decided she didn't need to hear about the part where he included Ziva.

Rachel watched as Ziva turned away from Tony and paced into the living room. The energy between Tony and Ziva was truly incredible. There was _so_ much passion. Rachel wondered just what went on behind closed doors.

Ziva came back into the kitchen and sat down next to Rachel at the table. She studied Rachel for a moment and then turned her attention to Tony. They had, what appeared to be a telepathic conversation for a few seconds, before Ziva turned her attention back to Rachel.

"What would you like to do?" Ziva asked.

"I don't honestly know," Rachel said quietly. "I don't know if I could handle that type of job, again. Maybe he was right, Ziva. Maybe I'm not cut out for this."

"He was wrong," Ziva told her. "You _are_ cut out for this, I have heard all of your stories prior to this; you have natural talent. That was an isolated incident."

"How about this," Tony proposed. "We'll talk to Gibbs tomorrow and see if anything can come of this; you won't have to make any decisions until at least then."

"I think that is a good idea," Ziva agreed.

* * *

_Friday night, Tony sat on the floor below Ziva's head, which lay on the arm of the couch. He didn't mind giving her the whole couch to stretch out upon. She had a thick carpet on the floor and he was comfortable, enough. _

_The MCRT had had a fairly busy week. A deployed Marine's daughter had gone missing on Tuesday and it took them the rest of week to find her. It turned out she had hopped a bus to New York to auditions for _So You Think You Can Dance_. She hadn't even got to audition, though. Unfortunately for her, it seemed that if you're under eighteen you need a parent of guardian to accompany you to the audition. The team flew up to New York and brought her back. It was one of the more heart-warming cases, if there is such a thing. No harm, no foul. _

_Tony had convinced Ziva to watch an OSU basketball game with him. It was the third quarter and the Buckeyes were losing badly to Purdue. Unable to take it anymore, Tony shut the TV off and turned to look at Ziva. She had fallen asleep. He got up off the floor and leaned over to gently kiss her forehead. As his lips brushed her skin, her eyes shot open in a panic and she pulled away from him.  
Taken aback by her sudden and violent movements, Tony backed off. He sat beside her on the edge of the couch.  
Ziva rubbed her eyes and became aware of her surroundings. She was on her couch; in her home. It was Tony would had tried to kiss her. Tony. _

"_Sorry," he mumbled._

"_I just did not know that it was you." _

"_Who else would it be?" he asked. _

_She didn't answer and looked away from his gaze. It wasn't like he didn't know what happened over there. He had seen all of its effects in the last month. But she didn't want to admit to him that sometimes when he held her close she had to fight the urge to break free and run, just run. She hated feeling restrained. _

_And when he kissed her, though it was usually welcomed and comforting, sometimes she pictured Saleem's sadistic smile as he forced to do things that she had never in a million years thought she would be forced to do. _

_Ziva had pulled her legs up towards her chest and sunk into the corner of the couch. Tony slowly pushed himself up onto to the couch and sat next to her, though he was careful to keep a few inches between them. _

"_What happened over there, Zi?" he asked, his voice soft and tender. _

"_You do not want to know," she said coldly. _

"_Yeah, I do." _

"_Horrible things, all of which I deserved," she stated quietly. _

"_Ziva, tell me one horrible thing that happened over there and I'll be the judge if you deserved it or not." _

"_Tony, I . . . I cannot," she stuttered. Unable to speak himself, he simply nodded. "I cannot tell you what happened." _

"_When you're ready," he said. _

_She nodded and he noticed just how big and frightened her eyes were. She looked like a small child who had lost their mother in the mall. "Will you do something for me, though?" she asked a few moments later. _

_In an effort to control his own emotions, which had chosen now to reveal themselves, Tony merely nodded. _

"_Will you hold me?" she pleaded, because right now she felt open and exposed and nothing could make her feel safer then when she felt his arms around her. _

"_Of course," he said. He breached the gap between them and pulled her into his chest. She burrowed her head deep into his shirt and focused on keeping her breathing even. _

_He had never, until these past weeks, seen his ninja cry so much. On a bad week, it was a nightly occurrence. It was like she kept it in all day and then she had to let it out. And so she did and so he held her._

Ziva unlocked the door to he apartment and she and Tony walked in. They set their belongings on the kitchen counter and then simultaneously turned towards each other.

It was close to midnight by then and they were both still wired from their evening full of discussion with Rachel. Ziva offered her guest room to her again, but Rachel said she thought she would all right.

"We work pretty well together," Tony smirked.

"I would hope so, considering that our lives usually depend on it."

"I was talking about with Rachel, today."

"I know," she smiled.

"Are you mad that I talked to Gibbs about her?"

"No, you did it for the right reasons," she had to admit she was kind of happy that he had spoken to Gibbs about Rachel. It meant that she didn't have to do it herself.

"Can I turn the TV on?" he asked.

She nodded as she scanned through that day's mail and checked her machine for any messages. It was reassuring helping Rachel today. She once again felt in control and was proud of herself. Aside from the incident in the closet, she had kept most of emotions in check. Though, she wasn't sure if it was because she was getting better at managing them, or if it was due to Tony's presence. Ziva left her kitchen and joined Tony on the couch. She picked the throw blanket off the floor and wrapped it around herself.

"What is this?" she asked referring to scantly clad women on the TV.

"Uh, it's the _Sports Illustrated_ swimsuit photo shoot," he responded.

"There must be something on that we both can enjoy . . ."

"Fine," he whined. Tony looked for the remote, but couldn't find it. He then saw it next to Ziva on the side table. Rather than asking for her to hand it to him, which would end up with her saying no and she controlling what they watched, he pivoted on his hip, so that he was leaning over her and reached for it.

Taking advantage of his position, Tony leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips. It wasn't until he made contact will her that he realized that Ziva was shaking like a leaf below him. His heart sank and he rolled off of her.

"Zi, I'm sorry," he whispered.

A thick fog of silence settled between them as Ziva tried to get her heart rate to lower. Tony silently cursed himself. He knew better than to put her in a position like that. He knew what that triggered. He was so angry with himself. She had been in such a good mood and he had ruined it with his thoughtlessness.

"I think I am ready," she said after a few moments of collective silence.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"You need to know," she turned towards him but kept her gaze on the couch below them, "and maybe I can set myself free by telling you."

"Whatever you say," he said, "it doesn't change _anything_."

She nodded and then began to speak. "In the beginning, it was just classic interrogation torture, but, of course, I cannot be broken that easily, so he began to threaten other things if I didn't talk." She shook her head. "It would not be the first time that my body would be used against me, so the threats had no effect on me. It was foolish of me to think that they were just idle threats. I was the only woman they had seen for weeks, if not months." Her eyes had glazed over and Tony imagined she could see it happening right in front of her. "The humiliation of it was the worst; I could handle the pain. Then he started coming in daily. It was painful and by the end I would just black out. I think that was why he stopped; I was no longer resisting. I would just lay there." Tony gulped as she continued, he couldn't imagine his strong ninja just laying there and taking it. He could imagine the pain in her eyes as she silently pleaded for something to put and end to the suffering. "A week or so before you arrived, time had all but blurred together. By then, it could have been an hour before I saw you, for all I know; he used me once more. It was by far the worst."

Ziva stopped, not wanting to continue. She hadn't expected that she would be able to tell him so much, yet everything had flowed so easily. Just him sitting next to her seemed to ease some of the pain of retelling her past summer. She sighed and curled into him. He was reluctant at first, but eventually his arms wrapped protectively around her.

"I'm so sorry," he choked out. "I'm so sorry that it took us so long to find you. I'm so sorry that I was a jackass and that I caused you to stay in Tel Aviv. I'm so sorry, Ziva."

"You found me, that is all that matters and you will never let me go again, yes?"

"Yes," he growled and pulled her even closer to him. Tony would probably never be able to forget what she had said. He kept thinking that if they had just gotten there a little faster, he could have prevented some of her pain.

The two didn't exchange any more words that evening and eventually Tony felt Ziva's breathing become regular. He looked down; she had fallen asleep, though she still held him in a death grip. Tony was unable to sleep much. When he did, he found himself back in Somalia. He was tied to a chair and could do nothing as he watched Saleem and his henchmen brutalize Ziva's limp body. Each time he awoke with a start, clinging to woman curled against him.

She, too, stirred and whimpered more than any night before. He feared that talking about what happened had released a new set of demons from deep inside her. Not knowing what else to do, he merely clung to her all until the sun rose.


	6. Chapter 6

**Another long one.**

** Let's play a game. Give me your favorite line and somehow I'll throw you into the story.. discretely, of course. : ) **

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**Chapter Six**

McGee stepped off the elevator and smiled. He was the first person from the team to arrive at work. Though it happened regularly, he never got tired of it. Timothy McGee relished his alone time in the bullpen. When he was alone, he was in charge. There was no one yelling at him and calling him _Probie_. He didn't feel the need to study Ziva and see if he could unlock the key to all of the mysteries that surrounded her. And Gibbs wasn't asking how to use his latest cell phone.

He walked to his desk and sat down. Turning on his computer, he checked his email and found one by someone claiming they were holding his typewriter hostage. He traced the email to Tony's computer. McGee was about to send an email to Tony from a woman claiming to have recently birthed his son, when he heard the ding of the elevator. He sighed. He had missed his opportunity to rag on the senior field agent yet again.

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo _trudged_ out of the elevator with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He _slumped_ down into his chair and _slapped_ the power button on his computer. He _jerked_ his bottom right drawer open and removed his weapon and badge.

"Morning, Tony," McGee said.

"Tim," he acknowledged. _Tim;_ the last time Tony called McGee _Tim_ was that time in the evidence garage. It was late July and just after he had told him that he thought he was in love with Ziva. He then acknowledged that it was too late now and that he'd never get the chance to tell her, _Tim_. In McGee's mind, it was the summer's absolute lowest moment.

"Rough night?" McGee asked. What he really wanted to say was, _rough night with Ziva? _but McGee chose his words carefully. Very carefully.

"You could say it that way, I guess." It sounded like an invitation to ask another question, but McGee didn't want to go too far. Ziva had nodded when he asked if she was seeing Tony outside of work. And then they left it at that. He didn't think that Tony knew he knew. Actually, he was positive that Tony didn't know he knew.

"Gibbs in yet?" Tony asked.

"I don't know," Tim responded, "I haven't seen him, but . . ."

Tony nodded and sat down at his desk. He took the opportunity to close his eyes for a moment. Any second now, Ziva would walk through the elevator doors and he would have to pretend that he got more than an hour's straight of sleep last night. He had stopped for coffee on the way to work, but it seemed that it hadn't kicked in yet. An image of Ziva's limp body lying on the floor of a dusty cell in the desert continued to appear in his mind. He shook his head in an effort to get it out. Maybe he shouldn't have asked her to tell him what happened. Maybe he should have just gone on not knowing what really went on over there; it turns out, the truth hurts. A lot.

Tony sighed. If he wanted any chance of a relationship with Ziva, not just a partnership, he was going to have to hear things that he didn't like.

Tony opened an eye when he felt someone looking him over. He caught McGee studying him. McGee turned back to his computer and Tony closed his eye again. He wasn't sure how the Probie's mind worked when it came to things other than computers and Abby. Tony's lips curved into a smirk. He _knew_ how Tim's mind felt about both of those things. What he wasn't sure about was how Tim's mind worked in relation to the events of last summer. He wondered if McGee lay in his bed at night, thinking of all the ways he could blackmail Tony. Or, did he lie in bed wondering just what happened to Ziva during her imprisonment? McGee probably didn't think at all in bed. He just slept.

"Is he sleeping?" a voice asked. One of Tony's eyes shot back open and he was greeted by his favorite Israeli peering over his desk. _No_, he wasn't _sleeping_. He quickly sat back up in his chair and took his legs off his desk.

"Can I help you, Zee-vah?" Tony asked.

"I was the one trying to help you," she turned towards her desk and sat her backpack down on the floor behind it. "We would not want Gibbs to find you like that," she sat down in her chair and raised an eyebrow at Tony.

She killed him. She absolutely killed him. If he weren't so hyper-attuned to her, to everything about her, things like this would really confuse him. She walks into the office carrying herself so well. She looks so confident. As if she _hadn't_ spent a majority of the evening attempting to bury herself inside his embrace. She stands over him and then seduces him in the office. It is so absolutely normal. As if she _hadn't_ cried herself to sleep in his arms the night before. She killed him. Simple as that, and he loved every minute of it. That is, except for the part where she painted a picture, in permanent marker, of herself being brutally assaulted in all ways possible by the worst of mankind. He hated those minutes.

But, because he was so incredibly attuned to all things Ziva David, he knew what she was doing. Or, at least he had an idea. It was all part of the game she played. At work, during the day, she pulled the curtain down and stepped in front of it. She seemed fine. She seemed more than fine. And that was exactly what she wanted. Because if everyone around her believed that she was fine, then maybe she could believe it, too. Tony knew and saw other wise, though. He knew she was far from fine, but he also knew how important it was to her that no one else knew that. So, he played her game. He played her game and he played on her team.

"Grab your gear." The sound of Gibbs' voice was a welcomed interruption to Tony's thoughts. He had had enough of his internal conversation. Tony picked up his bag and followed Ziva out of the bullpen. He dismissed her questioning glances.

His foot was just stepping from the carpet onto the steel of the elevator when his eyes met those of his boss.

"Take the stairs with McGee," he said. "Grab Duck." Tony was puzzled by his boss's request. It was clearly an excuse to get Ziva alone in the elevator; something Tony wasn't especially keen on. Nevertheless, he nodded and watched as the elevator doors closed in front of him.

* * *

Ziva's heart accelerated and she felt her cheeks go warm as the elevator doors took her safety net away from her. She scolded herself. There was no need to feel so nervous. It was only Gibbs. At one point, she had trusted him more than she trusted Tony. She couldn't understand why she had such a need for Tony to be at her side, she had never needed anyone to feel comfortable before. Yet, now when he wasn't around, she was just a little more on edge. Nothing noticeable to the others, but she felt it. She was just more aware of her surroundings. She kept one eye on the lookout. For what? Ziva wasn't sure.

Gibbs hadn't cornered her like this for months. In the beginning, when she had first gotten back, he did it frequently. It was his way of reminding her that he hadn't forgotten. He hadn't forgot just how delicate her current mental state was. He hadn't forgotten their conversation in his basement.

"Something you wish to speak to me about, Gibbs?" she asked, wanting to get straight to the point.

He flicked the emergency stop button and the elevator came to a screeching halt. The bright fluorescent white lights were replaced with emergency blue ones. Gibbs turned to face Ziva and leaned his back against the side railing. She gave his movement a side ways glance but didn't move from her position and kept facing forward.

"Rachel?" he asked, needing nothing other than her first name.

"She's a friend, a good one." Her vague answer made Jethro a little uncomfortable. It reminded him of the way she had spoken about Michael Rivkin. She was guarded; she had her famous walls up. The same ones that she put up when she knew she should be giving out more information, but was just too afraid to.

"DiNozzo wants her to join NCIS."

"I know." She _knew_? What kind of answer was that? Yeah, he knew she knew. That was why they were having this conversation, or lack thereof.

"You know?" he asked, taking a step towards her. She tensed. She was clearly uncomfortable. That hurt him. Hadn't she learned she could trust him? "Ziva, I'm not asking Vance to hire _your_ friend without input from you."

Taking a deep breath, she turned towards him. His eyes were hard. They demanded an answer from her. But, then he saw just how shaken she was. He saw how hard she was fighting to keep it all together and, for her, he softened.

"Rachel is smart. She is very smart and very good at what she does; it is in her blood. Her father, though, does not feel the same way. The CIA is not right place for her, anymore. I think she would do well at NCIS."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with her response. Though, she could tell he didn't like how the conversation had gone. Dialogue used to flow smoothly between the two. Gibbs flipped the switch back up and the elevator jolted back into motion.

"This isn't the end of this conversation," he added.

"No, it is not." She nodded in agreement, though she silently hoped that her safety net would be around for the next one.

* * *

Rachel tucked a hair behind her ear and turned the page in her book. She was trying to remember why she had gone into the government to begin with. There was no better place to try to figure that out than her favorite place, the place she felt most safe: the Georgetown University Library. She sat in an arm chair in the back corner. It had been her favorite spot during college. Whenever she had a big exam or something she had to read, she would come sit in this chair and she would be there for hours. On more than one occasion, she had fallen asleep and been woken up by one of the librarians.

Rachel flipped threw all the books she had gathered on American History. They were what had convinced to follow in father's footsteps to begin with. Maybe they could offer her some guidance or answers, now.

She closed _Jacksonian Democracy: Revisited _and picked up _The Cold War: Revisited_, not that that book would tell her anything she didn't already know. She had probably read it in the confidential files that she had confused as bedtimes stories when she was a kid.

Rachel's phone vibrated in her purse. She bent down and pulled it out. There was a new text from Tyler, her now ex-partner. _Haven't heard from you since you gave your notice. You all right?_ He asked. She smiled. It seemed that at least one person at the CIA cared about her.

_Yeah, I'm ok. Just trying to figure stuff out._ She responded.

Rachel thought she was on the road to recovery. She had decided that she was just going to shelve the whole problem with her father. She simply didn't have the stamina to deal with him and his lack of love for her so; she wasn't going to. It did pain her, though, that he wasn't even mildly concerned about her; he hadn't even called once since she stormed into his office.

Her phone vibrated again with a response from Tyler. _Well, I'm here if you need me_, it said. Rachel smiled and was sending him a thank you response when her phone vibrated with a new text message. It was from a number that wasn't in her contact list. _Hey, it's Tony_, it said. _Can_ _we talk?_

Abandoning her message to Tyler, she typed a response to Tony. _As long as this is the Tony that I think it is._ She responded.

Realizing that the library wasn't going to give her all the answer that she needed, she decided to see what Tony wanted. When she had sat at his desk on Saturday, Rachel hadn't understood what Ziva saw in Tony. He read both of them all too well and that characteristic was one that Ziva had never appreciated. But after last night, after observing Tony and Ziva work together to help her, she got it. They really were the _Dynamic Duo_; they knew each other's strengths and weaknesses and they played off them. Not to mention, you could see in their eyes just how much they cared about each other, especially Tony.

Rachel slipped her bag onto her shoulder and returned her books to the circulation desk. There were kids sitting at the tables studying and Rachel had to admit, she envied them. All they had to worry about was doing well in school. Yes, that could be stressful, but she would do anything to go back there and have her South Pacific Relations Exam be the biggest problem she had.

Rachel's phone vibrated again, this time, however, it was a call.

"Hello," she answered. She pushed the large door open and stepped out into the sun.

"It is the Tony you think it is," he said.

"Well that's a relief," she laughed walking down the stairs of the library. "How did you get this number, anyway?"

"I stole it from Ziva's phone when she wasn't looking."

"Kind of risky, don't you think?"

"I'm well aware of the dangers of snooping through anything Ziva David related." Rachel walked across the lawn and to her car. She unlocked it with her key and threw her bag onto the seat.

"Yeah? So, what's going on?" she asked.

"Do you have a bit?" he asked. "I want to talk to you about some things," he left the last part dangling.

"Yeah, sure. Is everything ok?" she put the car in reverse and backed out of the space.

"Oh yeah, yeah, everything's fine."

"Ok, then. I'm in Georgetown."

"How about I meet you at the Starbucks on Connecticut Ave? Halfway between us."

"That sounds good," she said.

* * *

Ziva leaned back in her chair and stared at the suspect sitting across from her in interrogation. She leaned forward again and opened the file that was sitting in her front of her. She pulled the photos from the file and discarded the paperclip. Ziva meticulously spread them in front of the Commander. He looked at them and then back at Ziva. A small smile crept across his face.

"Commander Wilson, did you kill these men?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"I did not."  
"These Navy SEALs, Commander, had their oxygen tanks tampered with. So, when they left _your_ submarine, instead of having six hours worth of oxygen in their tanks, they had six _minutes_."

"I guess they didn't swim fast enough," the suspect offered with a chuckle. Ziva couldn't figure out why but for some reason, something about this man really bothered her. Maybe it was his uncanny resemblance to her father. She slammed her hands down on the table.

"This is not a laughing matter, Commander!" she growled.

He smirked at her and just sighed. This was one evil and volatile man sitting in front of her.

"We have your fingerprints on one of the tampered tanks." Her voice was even and calm though her heart rate was quite the opposite. It wasn't the first interrogation she had done since returning to NCIS, but it sure felt like it was.

"Do you?" the Commander slammed his fists down on the stable and stood up. He leaned over the table and stared at Ziva. She could almost see the flames of anger shooting up in his eyes.

She rose from her chair and pressed her palms down on the table. Leaning towards him, she whispered, "We do."

"Those men deserved to die! They shouldn't have even been SEALs. I sent them on that mission knowing they were going to die; the tanks were just an extra precaution. They were more committed to the Iraqi people than to their Commander, to _me_. They deserved it." Ziva's eyes went wide. In some twisted way, this man was her father. She was interrogating her father. He sent his men on a suicide mission because he felt like he no longer had their loyalty.

The door opened and Gibbs stepped in. Ziva took this as her queue to leave. She closed the file and moved towards the door. She handed it to Gibbs. He took it from her hands and gave her a knowing glance as she brushed past him. She didn't acknowledge his concern and slipped out the door. The door closed behind her and she stopped in the hallway. She leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.

Ziva couldn't believe that a simple interrogation had caused her so much pain. But the thing was, it wasn't a simple interrogation. Listening to the venom spew from the Commander's lips felt like she was listening to father explain why he had sent her into the desert, why he had sent her to die and that had caused the pain. So much pain.

The door from observation opened and Ziva smiled. She could really use a second with Tony right now.

"Nice bluff in there," McGee said stepping out of observation and into the hallway.

"McGee," she tried to hide her surprise.

"Yeah . . ." he responded. He studied her for a second. There was sweat across her forehead and McGee was pretty sure that he had never seen Ziva sweat during an interrogation. "Are you okay?"

"I am fine," she stated.

He nodded with a skeptical look and continued to evaluate her. Ziva, becoming increasingly uncomfortable, walked past him and opened to the door to observation. She was surprised and a little disappointed to find it empty except for the audio tech.

"Where is DiNozzo?" she asked, turning back to McGee.

"I was actually coming to ask you the same thing," McGee responded. "I haven't seen him since after lunch."

* * *

Tony parked his car on Connecticut Ave and put three quarters in the meter. He walked down the street and towards the Starbucks. It was a classic December afternoon for the District. The sun was shinning low in the sky and the temperature was right around 40 degrees. Tony walked past the windows of the coffee shop and spotted Rachel seated with her back towards him. He walked into the shop and tapped her shoulder as he came around and sat in front of her on the other side of the table. He watched her jump and instantly regretted taping her.

"Sorry," he mumbled, sitting down.

"It's fine," she responded, shaking her head.

"You'd think that after Ziva, I would've learned not to tap recently imprisoned ninjas on the shoulder." He laughed and instantly regretted the statement. The whole point of this little meeting he had arranged was to find out if Rachel knew about everything.

"I'm sure Ziva doesn't jump when you tap her on the shoulder." Rachel ran her hand through her hair. Nothing scared Ziva, especially not a simple tap on the shoulder.

Tony pursed his lips and nodded at Rachel. It seemed she didn't know much, if any at all about Ziva's time in the desert, but he wasn't ready to go _there_ with her just yet.

"So, what's going on?" Rachel asked.

"Well, to be honest, since you're going to working at NCIS or, at least, it looks that way, I thought there were some things that you should know."

"About Ziva?" she finished.

"Yeah. And then there's, yeah," Tony stuttered and stopped before he could finish.

"What?" she asked. Tony sighed and then leaned forward.

"This is purely selfish, sort of."

"What!"

"Did you ever meet Michael?" Tony wanted to know if he made it farther than Rivkin had. Meeting Rachel, accidental or not, meant that he had made it pretty far into the inner circle of Ziva's life.

"Who?" Rachel asked, genuine confusion clouding her face.

"Michael, like last April or May, did you ever hear of or meet a friend of Ziva's named Michael Rivkin?"

"No. Never." Rachel watched as a look of bewilderment came across Tony's face. "Why?" she asked.

"What was your interaction with her like at that time?"

Rachel laughed, "Tony, what is this, an interrogation?"

"Come on, just tell me," he responded.

"Well, she came to my graduation in mid-May, like she had promised, and then a week later she called from Tel Aviv. She said that things were complicated, really complicated, and that she would be back as soon as she could. She sounded really upset. I had never heard her this upset before. She told me that I was going to make a great CIA agent. I yelled at her and told her that she sounded like she was saying goodbye. She promised me that she wasn't. That was the last time I heard from her until early September."

"What did she say when she called in September?"

"She told me that she had gone undercover for Mossad to catch the leader of a terrorist group. She said it was the worst mission that she had ever been on. I asked her if she was back, like _really_ back, and she said she was. Then things seemingly went back to normal. I mean, she was different, but not to me so, I just tried to ignore it."

Tony had his hand on his forehead and his elbow was on the small table. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Ziva had really sheltered Rachel from everything. She didn't know about anything, which was what Tony had suspected. Rachel was far too perceptive of a girl to be showing up at Ziva's if she had known about what Ziva had gone through. She wouldn't have wanted to expose her to that again. Ziva was right; they were like sisters. Ziva protected, or tried to protect, her little sister from the evils of the world. The way she had probably tried to do with Tali as well.

"But you know that she's not Mossad, anymore. McGee said that you called her Officer David, but then you corrected yourself." His brows furrowed in confusion.

"Well, yeah," Rachel nodded. "I mean, she hates her father. He's awful. She wanted to stay at NCIS and he didn't want her to. So, she quit. It was the final straw. She hadn't trusted him since he made her take down Ari, anyway."

"So, you know about Ari, but not Rivkin or Somalia?"

"I just don't know about Rivkin, I know all about Somalia." Rachel was becoming confused. There was definitely something Tony wasn't telling her. "What aren't you telling me?"

Tony shook his head. He wasn't sure if Ziva would kill him for what he was about to do but he would hate for Rachel to find out the truth some other way.

"You can't repeat any of this, do you understand?" Tony asked. Rachel nodded, suddenly aware of the gravity of what was about to come out of Tony's mouth.

"Michael Rivkin was a rogue Mossad officer who killed an NCIS agent. He was also Ziva's betrothed, sort of, I don't even know. Long story short: he attacked me; I killed him. That got us all sent on a plane to Tel Aviv. Ziva ended up staying in Tel Aviv and taking Rivkin's place in his unit. Another long story short: Their mission went array and Ziva was the only member of the team not wounded. They had a direct order from Direct _Dah-vid_ that the mission of killing Saleem Ulman was to be completed at all costs, so, Ziva went it alone, she ended being captured and held and _tortured_ for almost three months." Tony paused and let his words sink into Rachel for a moment. Her eyes were wide and glassed over.

"Betrothed, as in engaged?" she asked.

"Yeah," Tony said quietly.

"I don't get it," Rachel shook her head in disbelief. "If she was going to marry this guy, she would've told me. I would've known."

"I don't think she entirely trusted him, Rachel. She was protecting - "

"She didn't love him, Tony," Rachel cut him off, the confusion in her voice now replace by sheer determination. "She loved, loves you. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but then again you probably shouldn't have told me that so, anyway," she paused and looked at him, trying to gage his reaction. "She always has. Wait though, finish the story. I assume she didn't come back on her own, and I assume Eli didn't go get her." A small and angry glint came into her eyes. It seemed to Tony that he wasn't the only who believed Director _Williams_ and Director _David_ to be of the same kind.

"We thought she was dead. We knew she had been on a ship that had sunk. We all thought she went down with it." Tony look towards the ground as the memories of the three months he spent thinking Ziva was dead flooded his brain. _No survivors._

"It killed you," Rachel offered, noticing the way he shrunk inside himself.

"I had to find the bastard that had taken Ziva away from me. I had to kill him. Gibbs sent McGee with me so that I wouldn't get myself killed amidst all the grief. I was sitting in a cell, tied to a chair, stock full of truth serum," he laughed at the absurdity of it all. "McGee lay on the floor, tied up, and I only wanted McGee to get out alive, not myself. And then," Tony shook his head in disbelief, "then they sat her down in front of me. I knew I was dead; I had to be. But then I went into overdrive, suddenly there was nothing more important than getting _her_ out of there. She looked like hell. There's no delicate way of putting it. Her eyes, her cheeks were swollen. Her face was covered in bruises. Her hair was a disaster. I've never seen hair look so dead. Gibbs shot him, the terrorist, and some of his gunmen and by some type of divine intervention, I'm convinced, we got out. She couldn't even walk. McGee and I practically carried her out."

Rachel wiped a tear from her eye. "I had no idea," she stammered. "So, that's why she's so- off. I mean, is there more?"

Tony ran a hand threw his hair. Was there more? He nodded his head. He wished the story ended there. "Yeah, but the rest is pretty rough, Ziva should probably tell you herself."

"She won't. We both know that."

"Three months, Rachel, three months, the only woman in a camp filled with terrorists. You can imagine the various methods of torture and interrogation they used on her." Tony's bluntness took Rachel a little off guard.

"Oh." Rachel looked down. The two were quiet for a moment. Tony checked his phone. No missed calls. Gibbs knew what he was doing and Ziva was probably too afraid that he was trying to get away from her to call him. He didn't know why McGee hadn't called, though.

"I didn't tell this to you to disturb you, Rachel," Tony began after a moment. He didn't want Rachel to get the wrong idea about why he was telling her this or why Ziva hadn't told her in the first place. "I wasn't trying to shove in your face the fact the Ziva doesn't always tell you the whole truth. She loves you. She's trying to protect you. Ziva's had too many important people in her life taken away from her. She's learned. She's not going to lose you. So, sometimes she blocks you out." Rachel nodded and wiped some more tears from her eyes. She hadn't realized just how much Ziva had been through. Rachel had known that Ziva hadn't given her the whole story, but that wasn't really anything new. Ziva had always put a small censor on everything she told Rachel. Rachel appreciated Ziva wanting to shelter her; it was something Jacob had tried to do.

"I just didn't want you find out about Somalia or Rivkin through NCIS," Tony continued. "I wanted you to understand why Ziva does the things she does."

"Is she okay?" Rachel asked. "I mean, that's pretty scarring stuff."

"She's getting there, we have her back."

"You mean, _you_ have her back," Rachel corrected with a smile. Tony nodded. "That's why you were there Friday when I showed up and that's why you brought us pizza."

"And that's why," Tony quietly added, "that's why I haven't slept in my apartment since the first week of October." Rachel nodded in understanding. She felt terrible for throwing all her problems on Ziva when Ziva clearly had her own to deal with.

"I'm probably not helping, either," Rachel said.

"She wants to help you, Rach," Tony took her hand from the table. "We got you, I just didn't want Ziva to crumble before you, not that she will, and for you not to know why."

"Thanks, Tony," Rachel whispered.

"Anytime." Tony let go of her hand. "But, I need to get back to my ninja and she how she is. If you ever want to talk, you have my number." Rachel nodded. She wiped her eyes and smiled.

Tony and Rachel got up from the table and moved towards the door. They exited the shop and parted ways. Rachel walked a few feet before she turned back towards Tony's direction.

"Hey, Tony!" she called. She watched him turn back towards her. "I approve," she said. "You're really good for her. I like you."

A smile spread across Tony's face. Just as important as Gibbs' approval was Rachel's. She was the closest thing to family that Ziva had in the States. "Thanks!" he called. "It means a lot."

* * *

_It was half past two in the morning when Tony finally arrived at Ziva's apartment. Gibbs had sent Ziva and McGee home around ten, but the Senior Field Agent had had paperwork that he needed to finish. Back when things were – normal, Ziva had usually stayed late with him. She would find something to do and keep him company. Now, with their new, unspoken, arrangement she always stayed with him. He couldn't remember a time in the last month, since the night that she had shown up at his apartment, that he hadn't gone home and spent the night with her. Tonight, though, Gibbs had ordered his two Junior Agents home, demanding that they get some rest. It had been another long week- or weekend, rather for the MCRT. They had spent both Friday and Saturday night at the office and Sunday night was spent tailing a suspect from bar to bar. Ziva had only given him a glance as she and McGee left the bullpen. He smiled at her; he'd be along. He worked as hard as he could to finish his work, all the while worrying how she was doing, alone. _

_Tony quietly put his key in the lock and turned it. He didn't want to startle her. He pushed the door open and was greeted by darkness. There wasn't a single light on in the apartment; it was pitch black. He wasn't sure why it confused him. I mean, if anyone weren't going to be afraid of the dark, it would be Ziva. He touched a hand to his weapon; just making sure it was there._

_Tony stopped at the mat that was placed near the door and slipped his shoes off. In his socks, he padded past the kitchen and into the family room. He expected to find her curled up on the couch, but when he came into the room, it was empty. Tony headed towards her bedroom. Maybe Ziva had finally decided it was time to sleep in her bed. He pushed the door open and found the bed still perfectly made. He walked into the room and turned towards her bathroom. Empty. The thumping inside his chest became louder and he told himself not to panic. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for her whereabouts._

_He was about to pull his weapon out and start screaming her name when a shadow in the corner caught his eye. Splashed against the wall in the corner, it was steadily rising and falling. He turned toward the upholstered chair that sat in the corner of the room and sighed. There, sleeping on the floor, curled between the wall and the chair, was Ziva. She lay slightly on her right hip, her knees towards her chest and her head resting on the side of the chair. _

_He ran his hand threw his hair. What was he supposed to do? She looked so peaceful. Tony didn't want to wake her. He couldn't even begin to imagine as to why she was sleeping between the chair and the wall. He didn't want to go there. _

_Taking his life in his hands, he decided to simply move her to the bed. Maybe, he surmised, she was in such a deep sleep that she wouldn't even feel him move her. _

_Tony took off his suit jacket and tie. He threw them on her bureau and made his way towards her. Squatting down, in front of her, he noticed a black object resting under the chair, just beside her fingers. Tony smiled. He should've known she'd be armed. He pulled the gun from her fingers and put it out of reach. _

_He slid one arm under her knees and she stirred. Tony froze. How much damage could she do in a fit of fear and uncertainty? She settled again and he slid his other hand behind her back. Now or never, he thought. Tony leaned in and went to pick her up and raise himself off the ground when an eye shot open at him. _

"_Just me," he whispered, his mouth just millimeters from her ear._

"_What are you doing?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. _

"_Wouldn't want to sleep on the floor all night . . ." Her left arm frantically searched the floor and she sat up straighter. He pulled his arm out from under her knees but kept the other one around her back. _

"_Where is my sig? I had it here." She was panicking, her eyes desperately searching the room. _

"_I didn't want you to accidently shoot me," he smirked. She grew quiet for a moment. She ashamedly looked away from him and down at the floor. He moved his hand from her back to her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She was still and hard as a rock. _

"_What time is it?" she asked after a few moments of silence. _

"_A little past two thirty. Come on, let's go to bed." He tugged at her hand and tried to guide her off the ground but she didn't move. She didn't even look at him. "Zi . . .?" _

"_You go to bed. I will sleep on the couch." She rose from the floor and hurried out of the room. He sighed. He wanted a bed so badly; he wanted to listen to her so badly. But, he couldn't. Pushing himself off the floor and grabbing an extra pillow from her bed, Tony followed after Ziva into the living room. _

_Ziva padded out into the living room and cursed herself for putting herself in this situation. She should've just burrowed into the couch when she had gotten home. Instead, with Tony's absence, she felt the need to feel protected. So, she had closed all the curtains in her apartment, made sure all the windows were locked and shut off every single light. Then, with her gun in her hand, she had squished herself between the chair and the wall. It wasn't comfortable at all. She wasn't even sure how she had managed to fall asleep. _

_She reached under the couch and pulled out the blanket and pillow she kept there. Ziva put the pillow on the arm of the couch and curled into the corner. Closing her eyes, she sighed, it was going to be a sleepless night without Tony next to – holding her. She absolutely hated admitting that she needed him to hold her in order for her to fall asleep. _

"_I'm not sleeping next to your feet," a voice warned above her head. _

"_I thought you wanted to sleep in the bed." _

"_I do." He conceded. _

"_Then you will not have to sleep next to my feet." She didn't open her eyes but felt the figure move towards the other end of the couch. His hands pushed her feet towards her chest so that he could sit down. _

"_Is it me?" he asked, quietly. "Because I'll sleep on the floor or somewhere else, you know." _

"_It is not you." _

"_Want to tell me what it is, then?" _

_She opened an eye and stared at him. She pleaded with him. She wanted him to leave her alone but not leave her alone. She didn't want to talk. She couldn't talk or explain. So, she just pleaded with him to stay. "No," she said quietly. _

_He nodded, seemingly, understanding what she wanted, what she needed. They were quiet for a few minutes. The air between them was thick. It was uncomfortable, very uncomfortable. _

"_Are you going to leave me hanging over here?" he asked. "I don't think I can sleep alone, anymore." He tried to make her laugh. She didn't, but he got the next best thing. She threw the blanket at him and left her pillow, coming to join him. _

_He wrapped his arms around her and sighed. Sometimes he forgot the gravity of this situation. But when he did, nights like tonight reminded him just how broken she was and how determined he was to fix her._

_

* * *

_

Ziva crossed her arms as she exited the elevator and headed towards the door. It had been a hard day on her. She wished it hadn't been. Before her life went haywire, nothing at NCIS fazed her, not even the most gruesome crime. Now, the smallest things bothered her. And the lack of Tony's presence had bothered her, too. Though, she would never admit it. She must have really scared him last night. He must have finally realized that she was just far too broken and damaged to deal with. She expected that this time would come eventually. Telling him all that last night had been a risk, but she had known that going in. In the moment, he had made her feel so comfortable and so safe and that, at least, counted for something.

She tightened her scarf as she walked towards the parking lot. The wind seemed harder tonight. It seemed meaner; punishing her. She would go home and call Rachel. Helping her would keep her mind off of Tony.  
As she got closer to her car, she noticed a figure leaning against her trunk. Ziva's heart raced. It seemed that her father had finally sent someone to kill her. Mossad, it seemed, was getting sloppy, someone waiting by her car; that was very bold. She supposed it was meant to be a sign of Eli's control over her, that even at NCIS headquarters he could get her.

"Miss me?" the figured asked as she slowly approached. All the air rushed out of her lungs and she stopped in her tracks. Maybe all hope wasn't lost. He had come back again. She began to approach slowly again, eventually coming to stand in front of him. Tony got up from the car and stood in front of her, their bodies' just fractions away from each other.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"Gettin' my girl," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It happens in all the great movies. I'm supposed to be waiting by your car."

"Where have you been all day?" she asked, missing the fact that he had just called her _his_ girl.

"I had some errands to run, nothing major," Tony said. "You never answered my question though, did you miss me?"

She stared at him for a minute. He confused her so much. She couldn't understand why he kept coming back for her. When she was being framed for murder, he cleared her. When she betrayed his trust, he risked his life for her. When she told him just how ruined she was, he held her though the night. She just didn't get it. Why did he care about her so much?

"Yes," she answered quietly. "I missed you."

"Good," he said, seemingly satisfied. He backed away from her and towards his car. "I'll drive you home."

"You always like to have both cars so people do not get suspicious," she contested.

"Everyone needs a change now and then," Tony answered. Ziva didn't move from her spot next to her car. She didn't know what he was doing. It was a DiNozzo rule that that they always had both cars. Or, at least, it always had been. "Zi, come on." Tony walked back towards her and laced his fingers through hers. Maybe retelling that horrible story to Rachel had knocked some sense into him. He hadn't seen her all day and he worried about what she was thinking after he disappeared all day, leaving her alone wasn't something he liked the idea of right now. "We'll get coffee together, tomorrow and then I'll wait and let you walk in first. No one will suspect anything," he promised. "I missed you, drive with me?"

"Fine." She said and they walked towards his car together. A small smile crept across both of their faces.

A few hours later, Tony awoke, on the couch, to a sharp shooting pain radiating from his lower back all the way up through his neck. He pulled his arm out from under Ziva and winced when he tried to stretch his back. This sleeping on the couch thing had to stop. It was killing him.

Tony wasn't one to push, but it had been two and a half months. She was going to have to face her bed one of these days. It might as well be today. He brushed a thumb against her cheek in effort to gently wake her up.

"Hey, Zi," he whispered. "Zi." She stirred a bit and he brushed his thumb back across her cheek. One of her eyes shot open, filled with fear. "Just me," he reminded.

She sat up a bit and look at him, slowly regaining her surroundings. Tony wondered when the day would come that someone would touch her, preferably him, and it wouldn't send a surge of fear through her whole being.

"Ziva," he began quietly. "I think it's time we moved off the couch. You know, try sleeping laying down instead of sitting up."

"You may," she spoke softly, looking down. "I would rather stay here."

"What are you afraid of?" He got off the couch and kneeled in front of her, placing his hands on her knees. She shook her head, adamantly. She didn't want to go there, he knew that. "You can tell me," he offered.

"Look what happened when I told things last night," she whispered, still not looking at him.

"Nothing happened. I'm still here. You're still here." He cupped her face in his hands, well aware of the effect it would have. She instantly froze. "It's ok," he said brushing his thumb back and forth. "You're okay." He spoke slowly, hoping she would internalize his words.

She nodded and leaned towards him, slowly unraveling at the seams that she worked so hard to keep woven together. He moved his hands from her face and wrapped his arms around her upper body. "I am scared," she said, her voice cracking. "I will feel exposed, vulnerable. It will be like when I had to lay there as, as…" She cried into his shoulder and he held her there. He wanted so badly to just hold her, to just let her cry herself back to sleep. But, he couldn't. He knew he was doing the right thing. He had shown her that he could comfort her and hold her through the pain, but now he had to help her heal.

He pushed her back a bit and she sat back on the couch. Tony got off of his knees and stood next to her. He held out his hand.  
"Come on," he said, his voice soft and encouraging, "We're going to do this _together_. You can do this, Ziva. Nothing's going to happen. I'll protect you."

She nodded. His last statement was what gave Ziva the strength to push herself off of the couch. If he was going to be there, she could do this. She took his hand, laced her fingers through his and let him lead her down the hallway.

He tapped the door open and gently pulled her through. Both of their clothes were strewn all over the room. It wasn't as if they ignored the bedroom, quite the contrary, they used it for everything except for its basic purpose. That is, they used it separately for everything. They were careful never to change in front of each other. Or, rather, Ziva was careful and Tony respected that.

With his free hand, Tony pulled down the comforter and then the sheet. He turned to Ziva. She nodded her head and he climbed into the bed, pulling her with him. He scooted all the way to the other side of the bed and let go of her hand, letting her decided just how close she wanted to be. As he let go, she turned to him, a slight look of panic on her face. He took her hand back and intertwined his fingers with hers. He lay flat on his back, a good six inches between them. He didn't want to cause anything by being too close to her. He stared at the ceiling. It was going to be a long night.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked.

"Of course."

"When you disappeared for a few hours at work today, I thought that you had finally realized that I was too damaged for you," she whispered.

"Zi," he voice was pained. He turned on his side so that he was facing her. "I told you, nothing changes, you're stuck with me." She nodded. He saw a faint sparkle in her eye and realized that she was crying.

"Where do you want me so that you can sleep?" he asked. She didn't respond but, instead, scooted herself until she had molded herself into him, her arms wrapped around his torso, her head, just below his chin.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He wasn't sure if he was helping her by making her do this, but then again, he wasn't sure about much these days. Tony pointed his head down and kissed the top of her head.

"Are you going to be able sleep?" he asked after of few minutes without any change in the rhythm of her breathing.

"I do not know," she said quietly. "I think so, you are quite comfortable."

"I'm glad, sweetcheeks," he said, a smile across his face. "I'm glad."

* * *

**Review, please! Also, I'd love to know what you'd like to see..**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Girlskickass wins for nicest review, though all of the other ones were really nice too. So, Girlskickass, there is an ode to you in there somewhere. Keep 'em coming. I like the favorite line, lets go it again. **

**Also, this story is winding down but, a sequel is to come. **

**Disclaimer: we all know that NCIS is not sappy enough for me to have a stake in..**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Seven**

Rachel sighed and changed the channel on the TV. There really was _nothing_ on at this time of night, or, she supposed, it was well into the morning now, three hours into the morning, to be exact.

She reached over and turned her bedside lamp on. It was nights like these, times when she just couldn't sleep, that Rachel missed having a roommate. She had never liked sharing a room in college, it felt like a violation of her privacy and she hardly ever got any time to herself. But on nights like theses, she was thankful for her roommate. It was nice just knowing that there was another human being in the room. She was never alone.

Rachel got up from the bed, shivering when the cold air touched her skin, and walked to her closet. She flicked the closet light on and stood on her tiptoes. She reached for a box on the top shelf and pulled it down with both hands. Rachel brought the box over to her bed and crawled back under the covers.

Rachel sifted through its contents until she found the pile of envelopes held together by a rubber band. She slipped the elastic off and thumbed through the envelopes until she came to the one she wanted. She slowly opened it, weary of damaging it and pulled the piece of paper out. A smile came across her face when she saw his child-like penmanship.

Rach,

Sorry to hear Dad missed your awards ceremony. I hope you weren't too devastated by it. I'm sure he was proud of you. Hell, I am and isn't that all that matters (kidding . . .sort of). Well, congratulations on your Georgetown scholarship. I may not know much, but I do know that not many people get full boats to Georgetown, so you have a lot to be proud of. Try and hold on, I'll be home soon and you'll be graduating in just a few months. Have you heard from your friend Ziva lately? I worked with some people from Mossad last week. Can't tell you why, of course. But, man, they're interesting people. Maybe I'll run into her. I hope Dad's antics aren't causing you to get yourself into trouble- you know what I mean. That's not the answer. Anyway, hear me out, Dad loves you, he does. He's proud of you and he cares, he just doesn't know how to show it. Maybe mom burned him. Who knows? Keep trying, one day you'll break through and if you don't you'll always have me. I got to go. We're moving out. I just didn't know when I would have time to right you a long letter and wanted you to hear from me. Love you, baby sister.

-Jake

Rachel wiped her eyes. This was her favorite letter from Jacob's tour of duty, not just because it was his last, but also because of how encouraging it was and how when she read it, she could hear his voice. She could see him crack a smile when he wrote parts of it, but then becoming solemn and serious at other parts. Two days after she received the letter in the mail, they got word that Jacob had been killed by enemy fire.

She carefully folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. This was her very last piece of Jacob; her last connection to him. She put the envelopes back in order and slid the elastic back over them. Rachel placed them back in the box and set it on the floor. Suddenly, she felt very tired. There was a soft burn in her eyes as they had been open far too long. She laid down and closed her eyes, hoping she would drift off to some place where Jacob was.

* * *

Tony shifted his feet, as they were the only part of his body the he could move without waking Ziva. It seemed that she, in fact, had been able to sleep in a bed. It was he who could not.

Tony's mind was going in circles. Part of him felt badly for telling Rachel everything. Why did she have to learn that her hero, because let's be honest Ziva was Rachel's hero, had been defeated. And now, the poor kid felt awful spilling her problems to her. What had been his intentions going into that conversation, anyway? Was he merely curious if Rachel knew Michael? Tony scolded himself. That was extremely selfish of him. Well, here was karma getting back at him. They were in bed, but he was wide-awake.

Ziva stirred in her sleep and pulled away from him. She rolled onto her back and drew her knees closer to her chest. A small whimper escaped her lips. He debated between letting her be and pulling her back towards him. Tony decided to leave her be. He turned onto his other side; his body welcomed the change of position, anyway.

Tony closed his eyes and was beginning to actually fall asleep when a high-pitched scream startled him. He flipped onto his other side and stared, wide-eyed, at her. She was writhing in pain and flailing both her arms and legs. A soft stream of words escaped her mouth. He couldn't make out most of what she was saying; the majority of it being a mix of Hebrew and what he thought was Arabic. He did however make out the 'no's and then, of course, the most heart breaking words of all; the soft pleads for 'Tony'.

"Zi," he whispered, too afraid to touch her. "Ziva."

She twisted from side to side, as if she was trying to get away from something. Whimpers and moans escaped from her lips at an increasingly alarming rate. Tony felt like he was in physical pain. He was practically watching them torture her and he felt totally and completely helpless.

He reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder. She continued to jerk about. "Ziva, come on, wake up," he practically pleaded. Finally he shook her shoulder. She shot straight up in the bed and stared blankly at the wall. He breathed a quite sigh of relief.

Tony slowly sat up next to her, careful to give Ziva her space. She was breathing as if she had just run marathon and sweat strewn across her forehead. Fresh salty tears glided down her cheeks. When they had slept on the couch, she had, of course, had nightmares, but never like this. There was the occasional whimper, the few moans and she occasionally twisted in her sleep. He never had to wake her up, though. They were never _this_ bad. A pang of guilt hit him.

"What can I do?" he whispered.

She held her head low and vigorously wiped the tears from her cheeks; erasing any evidence of the incident that she could find.

Ziva shook her head in response. She hadn't had a nightmare that bad since the night she called Tony over; the first night he spent with her. It was obviously not something she was proud of and not something she wanted or needed Tony to see. "I am going to get a drink," she mumbled, rising from the bed. He nodded but got up with her and followed her to the kitchen. She placed a hand on her forehead and stumbled into the other room. Her hands shook as she opened the cabinet and reached for a glass.

"Here, I got it," he said grabbing the glass and filling it with water from the tap. He handed it to her.

She tried to steady her hand as she took it from him, but that proved to be futile. He held his hand under the bottom of the glass, ready to catch it if she were to drop it. The last thing Ziva needed was to break a glass; he thought that would send her over metaphorical ledge they were currently standing on.

"Do you want me to make you some tea?" he asked as he watched her lift the glass to her mouth once again and finally drain it. She shook her head and set the glass on the counter.

She looked at him for a moment, as if his eyes could offer her some answers. He stared back, unsure of what she needed, wanted. He hoped that his mere presence offered her some type of solace or comfort. Tony placed a hand on her shoulder and rubbed his thumb back and forth against the cotton of her t-shirt.

Ziva grabbed the counter as she suddenly became nauseous. Her face grew slightly pale and she made a beeline for the bathroom.

In the master bath, Ziva fell to the floor and barely made it to the toilet bowl. The cold of the porcelain was welcomed as she had suddenly become very hot. She heaved and thankfully threw up mostly water. She sighed as she felt another wave of nausea come over her. Gentle hands from behind her gathered her hair and held it back. He lightly ran his fingers through the curls, slowly undoing the knots he found. She lurched again. Small circles were being rubbed on her back and she wondered just what she had done to deserve him. He could have easily waited outside for her. He didn't need to see this. Ziva collapsed back down on the floor, convinced that it had passed.

He reached up and flushed the toilet.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be," he responded, a soft tenderness in his voice that let her know that he really did mean it. He pushed himself off the floor and pulled a towel from the rack. He wet it and then offered it to her. She gladly took it and buried her face in it.

Tony leaned against the vanity and watched her carefully. She vigorously wiped her face and then set the towel back on the rack. She looked embarrassed but more than anything she looked utterly shaken to the core. He offered his hand and, without looking in his eyes, she took it.

They silently walked back towards the bed and repeated their routine from earlier. He climbed in first, pulling her with him. He turned on his side and watched as she curled into him. Tony ran his hand slowly up and down her back for a moment.

"I now understand why the couch is preferable," he admitted.

"It would have been unhealthy for me to continue, though," she offered, a surprising amount of ease in her voice.

"Yeah, but that was pretty violent."

"I am sorry I woke you."

"I was already awake and I was the one who woke you, so..."

"Thank you," she said, turning her head up towards him. Of course he had woken her. He had pulled her out of there; it only fit that when she was forced to return there in her dreams, he would save her once again. She had never been the sentimental type, but for some reason, in his presence, with his hands trailing up and down her back, she found herself amazed at the constant symbolism in their relationship.

"Always," he responded, placing a light kiss on her lips.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it as he did. He felt her tremble just a bit. She held onto him, hoping to remind herself that the lips pressed against hers were in fact Tony's and no one else's.

"Tony," she whispered, she took a deep breath, knowing that what she was about to say was irrevocable. It was something she couldn't take back, but Ziva was so sure of it that she had little problem speaking the next three words that came out of her mouth. "I love you."

A small smile came across his face. She had said it. He had spent the last three months telling her how much he loved her, how she wasn't going to lose him, he wasn't going anywhere, but, she had never said it back. She had thanked him countless times; she had told him that she had trusted him with her heart, with all of her. She had never come out and said it, though, and he was okay with that. Or, at least, that was what he told himself. He knew Ziva loved him, deep down he knew. He hadn't known, though, the weight that would be lifted off of his shoulders when she finally came out and outright said she did. It was unbelievable. "I love you too, Ziva," he responded.

Right then and there, for both of them, the world seemed to be on track. It seemed to be on their track, something that had never before taken place.

* * *

The automatic doors of autopsy swished open and Doctor Mallard turned to greet his guest. It wasn't often that Ducky got visitors from upstairs and, though he truly did appreciate the company of those no longer living, it was nice having the company of someone who spoke back once and awhile.

"Ah, Jethro," he said, turning away from the newest addition to his table.

"Just me, Ducky," Tony responded. He deposited the large box that he carried on the empty table next to the medical examiner.

"Anthony," Ducky responded, a pleasant surprise evident in his voice. He turned to greet the senior field agent, who rarely made the journey down to autopsy alone. "What can I do for you?"

"Gibbs asked me to bring some our sailor's personal items down. He was hoping you could a psychological autopsy with them," Tony responded. He unloaded some of the items from the box and then made his way to Ducky's desk. He took a seat in the M.E.'s chair.

"Of course," Ducky responded, he turned and saw that Tony had taken a seat in his chair. Tony hardly ever made himself comfortable in autopsy like the others often did. It was a common occurrence for Abby, McGee or even Ziva to come down and chat with Ducky, but Tony always came for business; nothing more.

"Something on your mind, Anthony?" Ducky prompted. "It isn't often that I am graced with your presence."

"Sorry, Ducky," Tony began, rising to his feet. "I didn't mean to bother you."

"Sit down, Anthony," Ducky commanded. "I was just beginning the autopsy." Tony nodded and sat back down in the chair. He wasn't sure why he was down there. He just needed a break from it all. It was his second day in row coming in to work exhausted and both McGee and Gibbs had taken notice. That was fine; he didn't really care what they were thinking. Ziva was the problem; not that she was an actual problem, he absolutely adored her constant presence. It was her guilt that he could do without. She felt absolutely awful for waking him up the night before. He could've just told her that he had been awake to begin with, but that would open a whole other can of worms. He just needed a few minutes of peace, just a few minutes to possibly close his eyes and rest.

"You look awfully tired, my dear boy," Ducky observed.

"Yeah." Tony nodded. "It's been a rough week with Ziva." His eyes shot up just as he said the last noun. He hadn't actually said that, had he? Tony rubbed his eyes. God, he must be spent. He couldn't even keep his mouth shut about the single most important thing; the only thing he had to keep a secret.

"Ah, yes." Ducky nodded. "Our dear girl,"

"Ducky, I'm really tired and probably shouldn't be allowed to talk," Tony tried to back-peddle, but the Doctor just smiled and leaned over the table that was filled with the deceased sailor's belongings.

"There is no need to try and fool me, Anthony."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked.

"Unbeknownst to most, I am usually the last person to leave the building." Tony's eyes went wide. "So I have occasionally seen the two of you leaving together and, not to invade your privacy, but I did catch the interesting interaction between you two in the parking lot last night."

"Are you going to tell Gibbs?" Tony asked.

"What goes on between you and Ziva is just that; between you and Ziva," he said with a small smile and Tony relaxed a bit.

"I'm worried about her," Tony confessed. "We – she slept in bed for the first time since she has gotten back last night and she had the worst nightmare. It seemed so real to her and then she woke up and got a drink of water and couldn't keep it in her stomach." Tony stopped when he realized just how much he had revealed in his ramblings.

"She experienced a very traumatic thing and those memories do not just evaporate into thin air. None of us could possibly imagine what it was like for her, the experiences she had to endure just to survive. Three months is a very long time." Ducky shook his head.

"She'll get better though, won't she?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Ducky assured him. "It may just take her awhile." Tony nodded his head and then the room went silent for a moment. Last night had shaken him, hell; the last two nights had really shaken him. But, he knew that she opening up to him was progress. She was taking steps; baby steps, but steps nonetheless. And he would wait. He would wait as long as he had to for her to become her old self again. He didn't care how many sleepless nights it took.

"Thanks, Ducky," Tony said, rising from his chair. He had been gone long enough; he didn't want anyone to worry or become suspicious.

"Anthony," Ducky called as Tony moved towards the automatic doors. Tony turned. "Do not let your fear of my telling Jethro keep you from seeking my assistance."  
Tony nodded and exited the room. Ducky smiled. Since Tony had come to NCIS almost ten years ago, Ducky had seen him go through his share of troubles, many of them involving women. This, however, was different. She understood him and he her and maybe they could find just what they needed in each other.

* * *

Rachel walked into the pub and took a seat at one of the high tables. She hadn't been out in weeks. She had been so busy before her mission and in the past week since her return, she hadn't really felt like going out. It felt good to dress up a bit and put on some makeup. There was just a hint of an extra glint in her eyes that hadn't been there since she returned from Prague. Granted, it wasn't like she was on a date or meeting anyone she had to impress. It was just Ziva, and hopefully Tony. Rachel ordered a beer and waited for them to arrive.

It was a quiet Thursday night at the bar. Most of the people around Rachel seemed to be doing the same thing as she; they all appeared to be meeting friends after work, many were still in their work clothes. The Capitol Lounge was one of Rachel's favorites in D.C. It was upscale and therefore, you didn't get too many crazy drunks. Many of the people in the bar were lobbyists and they often met with people there to work their cause. Rachel had over heard some pretty interesting conversations in her frequents to the establishment.

Rachel smiled as she watched Ziva walk into the restaurant. Her smiled brightened when she watched Tony follow her in. She waved and the _Dynamic Duo,_ as she now called them, made their way over to her table. Rachel loved Ziva like a sister, but sometimes her bluntness was a little too much to handle. With Tony there, though, his charm balanced the whole thing out. Plus, he wouldn't let Rachel say anything that would upset Ziva and after her conversation with him yesterday, she certainly didn't want to do that.

"Well don't we look nice tonight," Ziva said, pushing herself onto a high chair.

"Smokin' hot," Tony agreed.

"Thanks guys, I figured I was in need of a night out."

"Absolutely," Ziva agreed, nodding her head. "So, what have you been doing since we last saw you?" Tony became slightly uncomfortable at Ziva's question. Rachel wasn't going to sell him out was she? He shifted in his seat and reminded himself that he had once been trained to lie. It wasn't even lying really. It was only a lie of omission and those weren't _nearly_ as bad.

"I spent the day yesterday at the Georgetown library. I was trying to rediscover my passion." Rachel took a sip of her beer and offered the two agents a shrug of the shoulders.

"Your passion meaning . . .?" Tony asked.

"Government, diplomacy, United States history in general and linguistics, yes?" Ziva answered, looking for confirmation from Rachel.

"That's what I triple majored and then minored in, anyway." Rachel rolled her eyes, recalling how ambitious she had been in college.

"Wait, wait," Tony put a hand up in disbelief, "you had _three_ majors and a minor in college, did you have _any_ fun?" His eyes were wide as if he couldn't comprehend any of it.

"I majored in government and diplomacy and then linguistics and I minored in US history."

"Not to mention in those four years she became fluent in Spanish, Italian, French, and Kurdish as well," Ziva added.

"I was trying to be cooler than Ziva, turns out its not entirely possible; that girl kicks ass. I knew Spanish going in, though, so that doesn't really count." The waiter approached the table and took drink orders from Tony and Ziva, a beer and a glass of red wine, respectively. Rachel, who had previously handed her keys to Ziva, ordered a martini and a shot of tequila.

"How drunk do you intend to get tonight?" Ziva asked, raising an eyebrow. The older sister in her was creeping out.

"As drunk as you'll let me."

"You never answered my question," Tony interjected. "Did you have _any_ fun in college?"

"Up until my junior year, yeah," Rachel sighed. "Then I joined the Agency and I'm pretty sure my roommates forgot my name." There was a bitter tone to Rachel's voice that Ziva had never heard before. She had never acted like joining the Agency was a bad thing; she had been the happiest Ziva had ever seen in the months right after she began working there.

"What did you find in the library?" Ziva asked, hoping to steer Rachel in a more positive direction.

"Nothing."

"Does that mean you won't be attending the interview we got you tomorrow?" Tony asked.

"An interview with who?" Rachel asked, her voice rising just a bit.

"Gibbs and Director Vance," Ziva responded.

"I think you'd have to commit me to an asylum if I didn't show up to the interview tomorrow. I mean, I could always go to California with Angela, but I'd have to be really desperate to do that."

"Angela?" Tony and Ziva's voices rang together like a well-tuned harmonica.

"You remember Angela, Ziva. She was one of my roommates, the really, really smart dumb blonde."

"Oh, right, the math major who had troubled driving her car."

"Yeah!" Rachel exclaimed, a smile coming across her. "Well, she stopped going to Grad school because she thinks she's too pretty for it, so now she's moving to Hollywood to become an actress. She called the other night to chat and somehow I spilled that I quit which prompted her to invite me to join her."

"You should go," Tony offered. Ziva slowly turned towards him and gave him a piercing look. "I was kidding, _Zee-vah,_" he said, raising his hands in surrender. "Just trying to lighten you two up."

"You know, it's funny…" Rachel began.

"What?" Ziva asked, suspicion evident in her voice.

"Zi, Zeeeeeeee-vah," Rachel shook her head. "What else does he get away with?"

"Sweetcheeks." Tony cringed, hoping Ziva wouldn't kill him right then and there.

"Sweetcheeeeeeeks? Noooo! That's great!" Rachel clapped her hands. It was then that both Tony and Ziva noticed she was beginning to slur her words. Tony looked down at the table and took in the sight of Rachel's empty shot glass, beer bottle, and martini glass.

"I think it's time to cut her off," he said.

"And get her out of here."

"It wouldn't look good if she was hung over for Vance tomorrow."

* * *

Gibbs opened the door to his basement and flicked the light on. The light illuminated the beginnings of his latest project. It was still just a couple of pieces of plywood strewn across his workbench but, nonetheless, it was the beginning and everything had a beginning. Gibbs jogged down the stairs and walked over to the bench. He dumped a bunch of rusted nails out of coffee mug and poured some bourbon in it.

He picked up a piece of sand paper and began to slowly smooth the wood back and forth. He remember the day that had he had realized that there was something between those two, between his DiNozzo and David. It would be easy to say that he saw it when they went undercover together just months after Ziva was placed on the team, but that wasn't it. DiNozzo had always loved the ladies and Ziva certainly was attractive, so it wasn't surprising that they had unbelievable chemistry. It was sometime after that. They were in the bullpen and Gibbs had been observing his team from above, the Director, _his_ Director, standing beside him. The two down below were arguing back and forth about a case. Ziva thought that business associate was guilty where as Tony thought that it was the mistress. After going back and forth for a good three minutes, they collectively came to the conclusion that all signs led to neither the associate nor the mistress but the neighbor. Both of their faces lit up and for a moment they just starred at each other.

Jenny made a comment like _they remind me of us_. Gibbs had rolled his eyes and replied that_ there are rules against that, now_. He had then taken off down the stairs in an attempt to refocus his team. But, he had seen it too and he would see it many times after that. The way they moved in sync in the middle of a firefight, how they could almost complete each other's thoughts, let alone sentences. Partners were supposed to be close, but this was something else entirely.

Gibbs was too impressed at the way they had seemingly been able to ride the vicissitudes of life to step between them now. He would never forget the look on Ziva's face when DiNozzo's car blew up in MTAC. She was no stranger to collateral damage or the dangers of the work they were involved in. She was, he believed, however, unaccustomed to the feelings she felt for Tony. He hadn't seen that look from DiNozzo for quite some time. Not even when they got back on the plane in Tel Aviv without her. Tony was an eternal optimist up until that point. He believed that his time with Ziva would come when it was supposed to and everything would work out just fine in the end. It wasn't until Gibbs had uttered the words _no survivors_ that he saw that same face on Tony. Death was finite and there would never be another chance for him.

Gibbs had told Ziva that a part of her died out there, but a part of DiNozzo died during those months as well. His Senior Field Agent was never quite the same after nearly losing her. Some of his spark returned when she did, but the rest of the damage was irrevocable.

Perhaps it had been a good thing for DiNozzo. You couldn't really argue that there were any positives for Ziva, but maybe for DiNozzo there were. Maybe it forced him to grow up just a bit, just enough. Maybe it showed him who really mattered.

Gibbs was no stranger to the fact that they were seeing each other outside of the office. He had seen one of their cars spend the night in the parking lot countless times. The thing with Rachel only served as confirmation. But, in his mind, they deserved it. They were both extremely complex individuals and he wondered if they offered each other their only chance a real happiness. Shannon would've liked them. She wouldn't have mind if he broke one of _her_ rules for them.

"You just going to stand there, Duck?" he asked turning to great the Medical Examiner who had been standing at the top of his stairs for a good thirty seconds.

"Jethro, I didn't know if I was interrupting anything." He made his way down the stairs, but stayed in the foreground of Gibbs' vision.

"Nope."

"I, ah, had an interesting conversation with our boy, Anthony, today."

"Oh yeah?"

"He is quite concerned about Ziva."

"I've noticed."

"Well, I'm sure you know about-."  
"I do."

"The poor boy isn't getting any sleep, she isn't getting any sleep." Ducky's voice was raising and Gibbs turned to face him. He seemed quite distressed by Tony and Ziva.

"They'll be fine, Duck."

"Have you thought of checking in on them? They both regard you as a father figure."

Gibbs laughed. "I don't know if DiNozzo would appreciate that. It might scare him to death."

Ducky sighed realizing that he wasn't going to get anyway on this subject. Someday Jethro would allow himself to become attached again or at least that was what he hoped.

"I'll keep it in mind, Duck. Drink?"

* * *

_If he wasn't in so much pain and if he hadn't just gone without water for eighteen hours, Tony might be able to come up with a really good movie reference, because this scene he was currently living was one right out of a great flick, but that wasn't the case._

_He tried to pull his left leg along at a faster pace to keep up with McGee, but the extra weight that it was holding up didn't allow for that. Not that he was complaining about the extra weight, because he wasn't. He still, even though the whole right side of her body was leaning against him, couldn't believe she was alive. Ziva David was alive. She was alive! It was as if the world had been placed back on its axis. So, he welcomed the weight against him because it was her weight. _

_They were trudging across the sand to the humvee that was waiting for them. Tony had the urge to shield his eyes from the glaring desert sun, but that involved either letting go of the gun he held in his hand, which wasn't an option because despite the fact that the area had been just declared "clear" he didn't trust it, or letting go of her hand and that certainly wasn't an option. He wasn't quite sure, but he thought she was holding onto him instead of vice versa. Scratch that, she was definitely holding onto him. She was squeezing him as if his touch was keeping her alive. What had happened inside that camp? McGee was doing a far better job at pulling her across the sand than he was, but then again, McGee had been thought to have been unconscious and hadn't been injected with some type of old Soviet concoction. __True Lies__, that was it, he had just been living in __True Lies__ for eighteen hours. Pulling. They weren't really pulling her across the sand. It was more like dragging. Tony couldn't understand why she was so weak. She had nearly collapsed once Gibbs had shot the last terrorist. She wasn't too skinny so, they had fed her. It was unlike Ziva to be acting so . . . un-Ziva. _

_They made it to the truck and both Tony and McGee waited for her to lift her feet up and climb into the truck, but she never did. _

"_Can you . . .?" she struggled for the words partially because she was still in a daze as to what had just transpired and also because she had never before needed to ask Tony or McGee for help and wasn't actually sure how to go about it. _

"_Yeah, yeah, we got you," the two agents responded, suddenly becoming aware of the fragile state of their teammate. McGee put one foot in the truck; climbing in just before her and together he and Tony lifted her in. A groan escaped her lips as she landed on the hard the seat. Tony and McGee stared at her._

"_Do you have any water?" she asked in an attempt to deflect their concern. _

"_Sorry," McGee stammered. "Of course." He pulled a canteen from the floor, opened it and then handed it to her. She took it and slowly lifted it to her lips. _

_Tony leaned against the side of the truck and watched as she did. Her cheekbones were swollen. Her hair looked as if a barrel of oil had been poured on top of it. It looked not only like a ball of grease, but a dead one at that. Her lips were bright pink, but not in a good way. They were raw and he wished he could hand her some chapstick because it looked utterly painful. _

_She drained the canteen and Tony thought just a half, or, even a quarter of a shade of color returned to her face. She sat for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. _

_Gibbs was in front of the truck, talking to Chad Dunham, one of the NCIS agents stationed in North Africa who had helped them pull this thing off. Tony hoped they were discussing leaving. He had had enough of the Desert Desert._

_Ziva coughed and Tony turned his attention back to her. She coughed again, but this time, her body lunged forward. He caught her just as she fell from the seat. In his arms, she heaved and heaved, throwing up the nearly one quart of water she had just drank. She heaved in his arms again and her body lunged further forward, causing the back of her shirt to ride up. _

_That was when he saw it or them, or whatever you wanted to call the gut-wrenching sight of streaks and blotches of dark purples, blues, blacks, and even green covering all of her back. Then there were the zigzagging cuts going from side to side. Some looked as if they had already begun to heal, but most of them still pussed with blood and other bodily fluids. Tony's eyes went wide and he looked up at McGee, who was equally as disturbed. Ziva had stopped throwing up by then and she was beginning to catch her breath. Tony suddenly went into overdrive. _

"_McGee!" he snapped. "Help me get her back in the truck." This time Tony climbed in with her. They sat her down as she continued to breathe heavily._

"_Are you alright?" he asked, keeping an arm around her shoulder. She looked up at him, her eyes a mixture of fear, pain and anguish. She sighed and then shook her head at him. She suddenly felt very, very tired. All Ziva wanted to do was sleep for a very long time. She hadn't slept more than a few hours straight in months. The truck began to spin and suddenly both Tony and McGee were enveloped in foggy haze. She closed her eyes and leaned on his shoulder. _

"_Go tell boss that she needs medical attention," Tony said to McGee, never taking his eyes off of her. "Tell him he needs to get us the hell out of here." Could this in fact be worse than he had imagined? Maybe she actually couldn't use her legs. Tony rubbed his forehead, and then tried to focus on the shallow breathing of the chest that lay against him._

_

* * *

_

After ensuring that Rachel made it safely back to her apartment, Tony and Ziva had spent the evening, as usual, watching TV on her couch. Just before eleven-thirty, they decided it was time to call it a night.

Ziva left the couch first, as per their unspoken rules, and headed down towards the master bedroom. She shut the door behind her and didn't bother to turn the light on. In the dark, she grabbed a shirt and a pair of pants from her drawer and went into the bathroom. She flicked the light on.

Ziva changed her underwear and pants and then stood, with only her black bra covering her upper body, in front of the sink. She turned slightly to take a look at her back. She had done a better job of taking care of the cuts and scrapes that covered her legs, thighs, stomach and chest because they were right in front of her. Now, only light pink scars dotted the front of her body. She hoped that they would fade before spring came. She couldn't imagine anyone having to look at them. It was hard enough to cover some of the ones that were high on her chest or those along her arms.

Ziva craned her neck to look at her back. It was a whole different story. Many of the scars were still bright red and a few were still sensitive to the touch. The medic in the field treated them and bandaged her entire back. He told her that he feared they were infected. His suspicions had been correct and now, six months after receiving the first one, they were only beginning to heal. She pulled open the drawer below the sink and opened the tube of ointment cream. She twisted her arms and tried, unsuccessfully, to place some cream on a few of the most sensitive marks.

"Need some help?" a voice asked from the doorway.

Ziva's eyes shot to the doorway. Most of his form was obscured by the darkness of the bedroom, all she could see was his face as he leaned against the side of the doorframe. Her breath hitched in her throat. He had never seen _them _before. She shook her head and quickly retrieved the shirt that laid on the counter. She put one sleeve on her arm and was about to put the other on when a hand stopped her. "Relax," he whispered, coming to stand behind her. She stopped and for a moment their eyes met in the mirror. She blinked, looked down and then looked back at him. If her eyes were the Atlantic Ocean during a category five hurricane, his were the Pacific on a day without any wind. He picked the tube of cream off of the counter and looked back at her. She gave a slight nod as her heart rate accelerated and her face became a bit flushed. He squeezed the bottle and a dime of white cream appeared on his hand. Tony moved behind her a bit more and bent his knees.

"Go easy," she warned, her voice cracking a bit, "they sting."

"Which ones?" he asked.

"Most of them."

"Do I put it everywhere?"

"Just on the scars themselves."

He nodded and set his eyes on the big one that had caught his attention those months ago. He placed his right hand on her hip to steady himself and then brushed his finger back and forth on the jagged line. She flinched at his touch and he looked up at her in the mirror, asking for permission to continue.

"I am fine," she stated flatly, her voice the epitome of control. She looked back down at the sink. He squeezed some more cream onto his fingers. Tony took his job seriously and carefully watched his application, mindful of the ones that would cause her the most pain. The gravity of this situation was not lost on him; he realized just how important it was that she was letting him do this. It showed her trust in him.

Tony was gently rubbing the fourth scar when he felt her begin to relax. She looked down at him and he smiled. "How we doing?" he asked.

"Alright," she conceded.

"Am I doing it right?"

"You are very gentle."

"I try," he responded. He took a break for a minute and straightened up. Tony placed the tube back on the counter and wrapped his arms around her torso. He rested his chin on her shoulder. "You didn't flinch," he observed quietly.

"I did not." A smile threatened to creep across her straight face.

"Must really love me," he teased. The smile won and she twisted in his arms so that she was facing him.

"I do."

He smiled down at her. She was killing him. He wanted to lean in, kiss her and carry her off to bed. But, he couldn't do that. She had just, for the first time in almost a year, allowed him to see her without a shirt on. He had almost forgot how beautiful she was. Almost. Ziva stared at him for a moment, a wide wonderment evident in her eyes.

"What?" he asked, a slight giggle in his voice.

"I thought this would be worse. I was dreading it," she said.

Tony slowly rocked back and forth on his feet, taking her with him. He rubbed her shoulders.

"Thought what would be worse?" he asked

"You seeing me – all of me."

"The scars are nothing, you know. And plus I have seen them before . . ."

"No, no you haven't . . ."

"In Somalia," he paused and took a deep breath, "when you threw up the canteen of water."

"When I was in your arms," she finished for him.

"The back of you shirt rode up."

She nodded and then wiped a tear from her eye. She squirmed in his arms, really wanting to escape, but he decided that he wasn't going to let her run. Not this time. That was the whole reason that he had followed her into the bathroom to begin with. He tightened his grip on her waist. "Hey," he whispered, placing his lips next to her ear, "it's no big deal. They'll fade."

"They are so ugly. It is a constant reminder of how damage I am."

"You're not damaged. I love you. You're perfect."

She shook her head and cast it down. "I hate when you say that."

"That I love you?"

"That I am not damaged."

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "How do I prove to that you're not damaged and that you are perfect, in every way possible?" He smirked.

"Not that way," she shook her head. "Not yet." He wasn't even referring to that. Or, at least, he hadn't realized he was referring to that.

"Not exactly what I meant, but I am flattered that you think one day you'll sleep with me."

"You do not want to."

"Ziva!" he groaned, exasperated. Tony released his grip on her waist and took her hand. "Trust me?" he asked.

She groaned as he led her to the bed. "Do I get to take my shirt?"

"No."

"Tony?"

"Ziva?" He sat down on the bed and pulled her with him. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes."

"Like _really_ kiss you?"

Her stomach dropped to the ground. She looked in his eyes and found nothing but earnest sincerity. She was scared. She wanted to be with him, really be with him, but she didn't want it clouded by the memories of the horrors she had endured. But, for some reason, she moved closer to him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. She attached her lips to his and his warmth radiated through her body. As his lips danced on top of hers, Ziva was genuinely surprised that not once did she feel trapped or uncomfortable. She latched her arm around his neck and fell back on the bed, taking him with her.

They continued kissing, only taking shorts breaths for air. He cupped her face in his hand and she gripped her hand around his neck. Things were becoming heated when his hand landed on her arm. He was only trying to hold himself up, but Ziva's body translated it as being held down again. She panicked.

"Time to stop," she breathed.

He immediately rolled off of her. He tried to hide the smile that was radiating on his face but, that proved to be difficult.

"You ok?" he asked, propping himself on his elbow and staring at her.

"Yes, I just, I needed . . ."

"You can say it," he offered casually.

"Your hand on my arm, I felt like I was being held down. It . . . triggers things."

He nodded in understanding. "Won't happen, again, promise." She turned towards him and ran a few fingers through his hair.

"I should finish your back . . ."

"You like doing it," she teased.

"I love touching you, I hate that I have to treat your scars."

She nodded solemnly. He rolled off the bed and walked back into the bathroom. Not wanting to be face down on the bed, Ziva sat up and waited for Tony to return. A smile lay on display on her face. She was happy.

* * *

**Let me know what you think! **


	8. Chapter 8

**Ok, I am so sorry it took me so long to get this one up. I've been trying, I have. Please forgive me. Hopefully it'll be worth the wait. :) **

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Tony tapped his mouse with one of his fingers and then looked across the bullpen at Ziva. She was concentrating on her screen – she didn't even notice that he was looking at her. He looked back at his screen. She looked so calm. He didn't get it. How was she the calm one and he was the nervous wreck? He sighed just a little too loudly. She looked up.

"How do you think it's going?" he asked.

"I'm sure that she is doing fine." she nodded her head and looked back at her computer.

Tony scrunched his forehead. What if they didn't hire Rachel? What would happen then? He would have a couple of upset ninjas on his hands. Lucky for him though, neither of them would voice it. Or was that unlucky? Ziva probably wouldn't be able to sleep – she would be too concerned about Rachel. Rachel might even show up announced, drunk even. That would most certainly be unlucky for him.

"Been in there for awhile, don't you think?" Tony asked.

"There is a lot to talk about." She continued typing, though she did stop for a second and make eye contact with him. "It has only been a half hour."

"You're so calm!" He let out an exasperated breath.

"It is out of our control," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "But I have faith in her."

He nodded in response to her resolute statement. For two people who had hardly anyone they could trust in their lives, they had the utmost of trust in each other. Tony's mind once again drifted to the past and he wondered where Rachel was years ago when Ziva was on the run from Mossad, the FBI and NCIS. He suspected that Ziva had protected Rachel then, too and kept her in the dark. That was back when things were different between them. Or was it the same? He supposed it depended on how he looked at it, at everything.

If he tried really hard, he thought that he could remember traces of Rachel evident in Ziva's life. Occasionally, she would decline his invitation to hang out. They were so close back then that he would have no problem asking her why. She would say something vague and tell him not to worry. She must have been with Rachel then.

Tony was snapped out of his trance by the ringing of his desk phone. He leaned forward and picked up the receiver.

"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," he answered.

"It's Abby," she began.

"Oh, hey A-"

"Don't!" She cut him off, "I need to talk to you – alone. Just come down to the lab."

"Sure thing . . ." He placed the phone back into the cradle and got up from his desk. "I'll be back, Probie-squared, try not to kill anyone in my absence."

* * *

McGee furrowed his eyebrows as he watched Tony saunter out of the bullpen. He had been acting strange lately: from his disappearance Wednesday to his over-the-top concern for Ziva's friend. McGee wondered if he would ever understand what went on in the Senior Field Agent's head.

He turned in his chair and looked at Ziva. She hadn't seemed bothered by any of Tony's strange behavior. That is, except for his disappearance Wednesday. It was clear that he was not who she was looking for when they had met outside of interrogation. Perhaps she now knew where he had been. McGee decided that he had to stop declining Tony's invitations for after hour's drinks. It was the only way he was going to get more information on the status of his partners' personal lives. Or life. Because, he was almost certain that somehow, in the last few months, they had become each other personal lives.

"What is it, McGee?" Ziva asked.

Tim jumped a bit. He had forgotten that he had been staring at Ziva. "Sorry," he mumbled, turning back to his computer. He saw her get up from her desk from the corner of his eye. He looked back at his work, hoping she would change her mind. She walked over and perched herself on the edge of Gibbs's desk.

"Something you wish to say?" she asked.

"Don't you think Tony's been acting a little strange lately?" he blurted out.

A small smile came across her face and she crossed her arms. She wasn't sure how she should say this.

"I think that is partially my fault," her voice was quiet, just above a whisper. "I have been . . . distracting him."

Their eyes met, his just a little wider than hers, and he nodded, feigning understanding. _Distracting him_, how was he supposed to interrupt _that_ statement?

"Have anything to do with the interrogation from the other day?" he asked. What he really wanted to say was _does this have anything to do with your state after the interrogation,_ but McGee chose his words carefully. Ziva may not be the same person she was a year ago, but she could still easily kill him with any number of things on his desk. He wasn't going to pry.

"Yes, I suppose, in a way, that it does," she spoke slowly, giving herself a chance to stop at any point in time.

He nodded once again and then looked back at his computer screen. Tony might avoid speaking seriously with him, though their relationship had certainly reached a new level after this summer, but he had always had Ziva on his side. That counted for something.

"McGee," Ziva added, turning back towards her desk, "you can stop avoiding coming out with us."

* * *

Rachel shifted slightly in her seat. She didn't want to seen nervous, but then again, she didn't want to seem overly confident, either. Resume questions: she could most certainly handle those.

Rachel had to admit that one of the many negative fallouts of her father's job was that she had never had the opportunity to experience a real job interview. When she had needed a job, she simply got one at the Agency. Sure, she had gone through a couple interrogations in her training, but those were different. There was a knack to keeping your cover for the Agency while in an interrogation. An interview, a job interview, didn't require any of those knacks, let alone appreciate the use of them.

She had to admit, the interview, hell the whole day, had been going easier than she had anticipated. Tony and Ziva had picked her up early that morning. Their faces bore slight smirks and they each handed her a cup of coffee. She had rolled her eyes at them. Ziva had insisted that she drink both. It would not look good, she said, to be hung-over during an interview with Gibbs. Rachel wasn't hung-over, though, or, at least, that's what she had assured _the Dynamic Duo_.

They drove her to the Navy Yard and joked about how entertaining she had been the night before. She was a lightweight; Ziva certainly knew that, it didn't take much to get her tipsy, let alone totally wasted.

Inside, NCIS seemed just a little more intimidating this time. The orange walls were no longer simply warm and inviting. It was like a warning, reminding her what world she was getting herself back into. Tony walked her upstairs to the Director's office. He gave her a pat on the back and opened the door.

Rachel spent the next half hour speaking with Agent Gibbs and Director Vance. She explained to them why she had quit the Agency; she gave a detailed account of her operation in Prague and why she wanted to work for NCIS. During her tactful but honest description of her father, Gibbs and the Director had shared various knowing glances. It seemed that the similarities between Director Williams and Director David were not lost on them, either.

They discussed her relationship with Ziva and whether or not that would prove to be a conflict of interest. Little did they know just how much of a conflict of interest was already going on downstairs. Rachel smiled and said that she and Ziva wouldn't have problem working together. She was beginning to think that they would have to be more concerned about Tony; he was becoming very protective of her.

"You graduated with honors from Georgetown," the Director remarked. "Impressive." Classic statement. Hadn't everyone working for the government graduated with honors from somewhere respectable?

"It was hard work, but I learned a lot."

"Your language skills and previous experience with the CIA would certainly be an asset to NCIS." Vance looked towards Gibbs for a moment. "Agent Gibbs, what do you think?"

Rachel froze at the Director's request. Agent Gibbs was the one person she wasn't sure of. Yes, he had seemingly welcomed her last Saturday and Tony had said that he had spoken with him about her prior to this, but Rachel wasn't convinced that he was sold on her. He was a man of so few words.

Gibbs studied Rachel for a minute and then leaned back in his chair. "We could always use another agent, Director."

"Well, it settled then, pass the _New Agent Battery_ and you'll be the newest member of the MCRT."

Relief washed over Rachel like a sub-equatorial waterfall. This was the beginning of something new, something promising. She smiled and shook both men's hands. It wasn't until the Director was showing her out of his office that his words hit her. _The New Agent Battery_. How was she going to pass an intensive round of psychiatric evaluations?

* * *

Abby grabbed the remote control and shut off the music as she heard Tony's footsteps enter the lab. She clicked the remote again and the door to the lab swung shut and locked. She turned to greet him.

"Locking me in?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Sort of," she said.

"What's going on, Abs?" he asked. He rested himself on the table behind her computer and folded his arms.

"I just have some questions, really."

"Shoot." He wasn't sure what she could possibly have questions about. Nothing ever got too heavy with Abby. For a time, right after Ziva got back, she worried a lot, but Tony knew that she thought everything was fine now. In Abby's mind, that storm had blown out to see months ago.

"Ziva?" she asked raising an eyebrow.

"What about her?" Tony tried not to let Abby know that just the mention of her name set off something in his head. His ears were now trained to tap into any conversation that even mentioned her. He had always been an interested partner; one might even go as far as to say he was nosey. But now, now he was on alert – high alert. There was nothing wrong with that, though. He only cared.

"Well, I wanted you to tell me yourself, but it seems that it would just be easier if I came out and said it."

"Said what?" he asked.

"You know the camera phones that Ducky and I have to talk with each other, well, it seems that he or I, not that it really matters, forgot to turn ours off the other day." Tony nodded, not really understanding where she was going with this. "So, when you were talking to him the other day, I may or may not have heard the entire conversation."

"The one about Ziva and . . ." He wasn't quite sure about how he wanted to finish that statement.

She nodded, hoping that he wasn't mad. Abby had to admit she was a little disappointed that neither of them had shared the news with her. She had been waiting years for this to happen. She had always been supportive, always rooting for them. "I don't like keeping things from you, we're too close for that, Tony." She batted her eyes at him.

"You would have found out sooner or later, I guess."

She nodded her head and then timidly opened her arms for a hug. He chuckled and then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. He didn't know what he and Ziva were going to do. Word was spreading and they weren't going to be able to keep it under wraps much longer.

"So when did it happen?" she asked, taking a step back from him to be able to see his face. "When did you guys _finally _take the plunge?" Abby was gleaming with excitement. She was so unbearably happy for them.

Tony paused before answering. How did he explain what had transpired over the last few months? How could he do it without compromising Ziva's current or previous mental state? He trusted Abby, he did. They had been part of the originals, part of the first MCRT, the one even before Kate. They shared an unmatched sibling-like bond, one that he hadn't been able to recreate with anyone, not even Kate. But, if he told Abby, he feared that it would end up with McGee and there was no telling how long it would take to get to Gibbs after that. Tony knew that Gibbs had his suspicions about how Ziva was doing and who was supporting her and, although he may have given him a backwards approval the other day, Tony wasn't ready to take any chances. Besides, Ziva would be absolutely crushed to know that people knew her secret. He just couldn't do that to her. She had been through enough.

"It's complicated, Abby," he resorted to saying.

"I see," she teased. She waited a minute, assuming that he would offer more information. She watched him look around the room for anything he could change the subject to. When he didn't speak again, she decided to combat the other thing she heard, the one that bothered her, the one that really made her call him down here.

"So," she began, her voice only above a whisper, "she's not sleeping?"

"You heard that too, huh?"

She nodded and this time he continued, "She was fine for a while, or, at least, I thought that she was, but then this whole thing with Rachel just stirred things up again."

"Who is this girl, anyway?" Abby placed her hands on hips. She thought she liked Rachel, but if she were causing Ziva pain, Abby would have to reevaluate her opinion.

"No, no." Tony shook his head; he didn't want Abby to get the wrong impression. "Rachel's great, really great. I do really hope they put her on the team. Its not her fault, she had no idea the extent of things that Zi suffered in the desert. Ziva didn't tell her more than half of it."

"None of us really do," Abby said, shaking her head, her voice lowering, taking a more somber tone. She stopped for a moment and then looked up a Tony. "You do though, don't you?"

Tony knew that this was where the conversation needed to end. He didn't like that he had to tell Rachel everything, and she was practically Ziva's family. He wasn't bringing this into the office. It was bad enough that Gibbs had gotten a copy of the medical report. It hadn't been until Tony saw her crumble for the first time that he understood why Gibbs had sealed it. Gibbs knew, he knew, and Rachel knew. Abby didn't need to know.

"It's complicated, Abs," Tony said again.

"Fine, that's fine."

Tony saw the disappointment on her face. "Abs, its not like I don't trust you or Ziva doesn't trust you, it's just that she's trying to heal and she won't be able to do that if everyone knows the gruesome details."

Abby nodded and then turned back to her computer. It seemed that she too had had enough of this conversation. She grabbed the remote and opened the door for Tony. He smiled at her back and headed back up to the bullpen.

* * *

_Rachel turned the corner and headed out of the dark alley. She was satisfied with the information that she had collected this evening and thought that four in the morning was a respectable time to turn in to her hotel room. _

_Prague was a lovely city, or, so she assumed. She had made a point to try and not leave the hotel during the daytime. Rachel was trying to keep a low profile – she didn't want to cause any suspicions. She promised herself that she would come back here some day. She would come back and see the sights. Maybe she'd even take someone with her. Ziva would go with her. She'd probably been to Prague before. She could show Rachel around. _

_Rachel continued down the sidewalk. It was a relatively quiet evening in the city. A rainstorm had just passed and the cobblestone street was dotted with small puddles. A small breeze swept across the streets and Rachel folded her arms across her chest. The storm had certainly brought a change in temperature. _

_She glanced over her shoulder. Rachel thought that she had heard someone walking behind her, but there was no one there. She must have heard a raindrop falling from one of the old buildings that lined the street. Nevertheless, Rachel quickened her steps. It was not a good idea to be walking alone anywhere at such an early hour, let alone a foreign country where you were spying on an illegal arms trade. Though, Rachel was confident that she could take on anyone who thought that they could threaten her. _

_In the same instant that Rachel believed herself to be almost invincible, she felt an arm come around her waist and she was pulled back into a body. Instantly, instinct took over. Rachel's foot went down hard on her aggressor's toe and her left elbow shot into his rib cage. She turned to face him, ready to put up a fight, when another figure appeared behind her and grabbed her arms. He tugged them behind her back. In front of her stood three other men; their guns aimed towards her head. She went to repeat her routine on the man holding her when the largest man standing in front of her opened his mouth and spoke. _

"_I would not do that if I were you." His English was perfect, though she could clearly hear his Iranian accent. In that instant, Rachel knew just how much trouble she was in._

Rachel shot up in bed. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. Her heart was beating so fast that she thought she was going to have a heart attack right there in her bedroom. Her bedroom. She was safe in her bedroom. She took another deep breath – it came out more ragged than the last.

"You're okay, Rach," she whispered to herself. "You're okay."

Her cheeks were wet and she was beginning to taste salty tears in her mouth. Rachel reached her hand up to wipe them away. She hadn't even realized that she was crying. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She couldn't decide if that had been a flashback or simply a dream. It had felt so real.

Her vision became blurry and she realized that she was crying, again. She hated crying, but she especially hated crying alone. It was something that she avoided. Jacob used to sit with her and talk to her as she cried. It would make her feel less ashamed. He had always understood her – he knew exactly what to say and when to say it. That being said, their relationship wasn't perfect, far from it. They knew each other so well that they knew which words hurt the most. Still, he had always been her best friend. Rachel had never once cried in front of her father. That is, of course, until the other day.  
Rachel slid herself to the end of the bed and pushed herself off. She walked into her kitchen and turned on the faucet. Leaning her head into the sink, she let the warm water blur her vision and wash all over her face. It was refreshing. She couldn't distinguish between the tap water and her own tears and for a moment she let it wash everything away.

A tap came from the family room and Rachel hit her head on the faucet when she jumped. She rubbed her head and crept into the other room, fearful of what she would find. She took in a ragged breath when she realized that she would not have time to go unlock her gun from her bedroom safe.

She turned the corner and flipped the light switch. She didn't want the darkness to aide her aggressor. The lamp turned on and Rachel was greeted by an empty room. She looked around for a moment and then sank to the floor. Another tap came and Rachel hopped back to her feet. It was then that something in the corner of the room caught her eye – it seemed that the radiator had just turned on.

Rachel sighed and rubbed her forehead. She felt so stupid. It was just the radiator. She turned the light off and headed back to her room. Rachel climbed into bed and curled herself into a ball. She really wished Jacob were here. He always made her feel safe.

Pulling the covers up to her neck, she tried to fall back asleep. It was only a dream, she told herself, only a dream. Rachel spent the next twenty minutes tossing and turning. She could've sworn that she had heard something coming from the bathroom. Her mind was running in circles. What if they tracked her down? She knew too much about them, about whom they were selling to, they'd want to kill her. They'd need to.

She sat up in bed. There was no way she could stay here. She had to leave. Rachel pulled on a pair of sweatpants that she had discarded to the floor earlier and grabbed her car keys from the bedside table. She prayed they, because she knew that she wouldn't be alone, wouldn't be angry with her.

* * *

Ziva would later wonder if something instinctual had woken her up at nearly a quarter to three Saturday morning. If he was attuned to everything Ziva David, then she was attuned to everything Rachel Williams.

It was the first time in months that she had been roused from her sleep by something other than a nightmare. The protective arm around her torso may have had something to do with her newly peaceful slumbers. She figured that her mind was just preoccupied. It had been preoccupied all day, but not for the reason that Tony had thought it would be. No, it wasn't Rachel that was on her mind. She knew Vance would scoop her up without hesitation; he knew a good agent when he saw one. It was Tony who had been on her mind all day.

She knew that the lease on his apartment was almost up. She had bribed McGee to do some research for her. Ziva thought that maybe he had gone apartment hunting on Wednesday when he had disappeared on them. She _really_ wanted to ask him to move in with her. He seemed to like her apartment; he seemed to like her.

For any other couple, this would seem too fast. They were different, though. They had yet to refer to each other as their boyfriend or girlfriend, but people usually did that before they said _I Love You_ and they had that covered. Maybe it was because they had been partners all these years – they'd always been in some kind of relationship with each other. Maybe that was their beginning; that was their casual dating.

People would probably be surprised to find out that, more than anything, Ziva wanted a family. She had always wanted her own family, but she had always thought that her commitment to Mossad would get in the way of having one. Now, though, she was free from Mossad. She was free from Mossad, she was free from her father, and she was on her way to becoming a United States citizen. She could have a family now. She could have a family now and she desperately hoped that man who held her in his arms was the one she could have it with. He had to be the _one_.

The hand on her waist moved and started drawing a small circle on hip. He was awake. Somehow, through the course of the night, her shirt had ridden up. It now sat just barely covering the sports bra that she had taken to wearing to bed each night. She tried to stifle the small gasp that escaped from her lips. The drawing stopped and he took his thumb and swayed it back and forth. He was awake and he knew that she was too.

She might of well of have been naked, she felt so exposed. She took a small breath and tried to relax. Ziva reminded herself that she actually liked this; she liked his touch.

"You should've woke me up," he whispered.

Ziva smiled. "I was just . . . thinking," she said. Ziva moved his hand from around her and twisted in his arms. "This cannot be comfortable for you."

"You have no idea just how much it is."

"Go back to sleep," she whispered.

"You first." He picked up a strand of her hair and twirled it around his finger. He could really get used to this; waking up, every morning, with her in his arms. Oh yes, he could most certainly get used to this. There was something about the way that she almost magically fit in his arms that made his world just a little bit brighter. There was no denying that he had loved before. Anthony DiNozzo loved frequently and he loved many. He had especially loved Jeanne.

This, though, this was like a whole different universe. Ziva was his . . . everything. He didn't even know where to begin. He was irrevocably and completely in love with her, but there was something else too. There was something more.

Ziva was beginning to fall back asleep when a blue light lit up the room. She opened her eyes and realized that it was one of their cell phones. She sighed – she really didn't want to go into work right now.

"Can I get it?" Tony asked.

She nodded and braced herself. He leaned over her and grabbed the phone off the table. He settled back down beside her. It seemed that she hadn't shuddered. Tony rubbed his eyes and tried to read the name on the display screen. He started to make out an _R_ when he realized that it wasn't his phone.

"I think it's Rachel," he said.

She grabbed the phone out of his hands and flipped it open. "Hello?"

The other end of the line was silent except for a few ragged breaths. Tony lowered himself closer to Ziva in an effort to hear the conversation. Not that he needed an excuse to get closer to her.

"Rachel?" Ziva asked.

"I . . . uh . . . promised that I would call next time."

"Do you want me to come get you?" Ziva asked. She got up from the bed and went over to her bureau. She pulled out a pair of sweats and replaced her shorts with them.

"No, I don't think so," Rachel took a deep breath. "I want to drive over."

Ziva looked over her shoulder and watched as Tony tied his shoes. He was already clad in workout shorts and she watched as he pulled a shirt over his head. She smiled, momentarily distracted from Rachel. She _really_ wanted him to move in with her.

"Yes, but is that safe, Rachel?"

"I'm already parked outside," Rachel confessed.

"We're coming." Ziva closed her phone and tossed it onto her bureau.

* * *

Rachel didn't recall getting out of her car or parking it, or driving over to Ziva's apartment, for that matter. She had been in a fog. She found herself, now, sitting on the cement sidewalk outside the door to Ziva's building. This probably wasn't the safest thing to be doing. She was vulnerable. Someone could come out of nowhere and attack her. Rachel didn't care. She didn't have it in her to move.

The night was crisp and clear. She looked up towards the sky and took a moment to study the crescent moon. She had once emitted light just like it did. But now, she had somehow lost of all of her spark. When she was at Georgetown, Rachel had found happiness. She had great friends there, she was studying things that she loved, she saw Ziva every weekend, if not more often, and she was finally beginning to come to turns with Jacob's death. Rachel even dated a couple of guys that she liked a lot. The hollow that she felt inside of her was beginning to fill. She knew that she would always miss her brother, but she was hopeful that one day she would think of him and remember the good times and just be happy that she had had him for the time that she did.

The front door of the building opened and Rachel watched four feet step out. She took a deep breath and felt the river of emotions come flooding back. It was simply their presence. She looked down at her lap and fiddled with her hands. She absolutely hated crying.

Ziva sat down on the sidewalk in front of her. Tony stood next to her, holding the door open. Rachel didn't dare look at either of their faces.

"Nice night," Tony remarked.

"A little cold, though," Ziva reached forward a tapped the side of her hand. It was just what Gibbs had done when he asked her to finish the story of the Damocles. She found it to be so gentle and so encouraging. "Come upstairs, Rach."

It was then that the levies inside of Rachel broke. A hurricane of emotions broke their way through Rachel's defenses and she found herself unable to control them.

Tony grabbed the doorstop from inside and propped the door open. The last thing he wanted was for them to get locked out.

"I got her," he said to Ziva. He bent down and gathered Rachel into his arms. For a twenty-two year old with remarkable muscle, she was fairly light and he managed to easily scoop her up. Ziva opened the door wider for him and they climbed the stairs together.

Back inside the apartment, he set her down in on the couch. Ziva took the ottoman and sat down on it.

"I'm so sorry," Rachel whispered. She was beginning to get a hold of herself and was so embarrassed of her actions.

Ziva ignored her apology and sighed. She loved Rachel and it was killing her that she had become and almost spitting image of herself. Ziva watched as Tony turned on a kettle in the kitchen. She looked back a Rachel.

"What happened, Rach?" She cupped her cheek in her hand and watched as Rachel's head went limp in her hand.

"I just couldn't stay," she sighed. "I was freaking out. I had the worst nightmare."

Ziva nodded and pulled her into a hug. She could certainly relate to that statement. She would have to add Eric to her hit list. He had let his daughter fall through the cracks for so long, but she had always hoped that he wouldn't resemble Eli to this extent. It seemed that her fears were being confirmed. Rachel was turning into her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. It was their fathers' fault. They had caused their daughters so much pain. Ziva figured that they were working together.

"Go to sleep," she whispered, releasing her from her arms. "We'll be right here."

Tony walked in from the kitchen and handed her the cup of tea. He sat himself on the corner of the ottoman, next to Ziva.

"I was just going to calm down and go home," Rachel said. She looked from Ziva to Tony. She felt like she was becoming a burden. She didn't want to cause them any more trouble and she certainly didn't want to cause Ziva any more pain.

"No, you're not," Tony said. "You're going to curl up on the couch and stay here."

Rachel bit her lip and mouthed a grateful 'thank you'. She didn't know what she would do without these people. They were the only things keeping her going right now. They were the only people who understood what this was like. She turned herself and lifted her legs onto the couch. She hadn't realized how tired she actually was. It seemed that her middle of the night freak-out had drained her more than she thought. She laid herself down on the pillow and watched as Ziva draped a blanket over her.

Rachel imagined Tony doing the same for Ziva. She couldn't believe that Ziva would ever be in such state. She almost didn't believe the things that Tony had told her. Almost. His state during his description of Ziva's state told Rachel, though, that it was true. That shook her to her core. Ziva was so strong. She was practically invincible. She could never be as weak as Rachel.

Rachel took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Ziva rubbed a small circle on her back. She felt safe. Nothing could happen with Tony and Ziva right there. They could protect her from anything. They were the _Dynamic Duo_, after all. She slowly drifted off to sleep, knowing that her ninja sister and her over protective boyfriend were only steps away. Somewhere, high above the clouds, Jacob was smiling because his sister was being taken care of.

* * *

Ziva felt Rachel's breathing even out and she removed her hand from the girl's back. Had Tony felt this much pain when he watched her cry? She rose from her seat on the side of the couch and joined Tony on the floor. She settled under his arm and let him pull her close.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his lips just barely grazing her ear.

She nodded. She was. Sort of. Watching Rachel tore her to pieces, but she knew that as long as she supported her like Tony had supported her in the beginning, Rachel would be all right. It was just a matter of time.

He must not have believed her, because Tony wrapped his arms her and tried to pull her closer, if that was even possible. He kissed the side of Ziva's cheek and she wasn't sure it was pure exhaustion or the desperation of the situation, but something inside of her told her that it was now or never.

"Stay," she whispered.

"I wasn't planning on going anywhere, Sweetcheeks." He pressed another kiss to the side of her face.

"No, I mean, don't ever leave," she hesitated for a moment; this was the man who was terrified of commitment. "Move in with me."

Tony was quiet for a moment. Chalk it up to whatever you want, this was a big deal. Ziva asking him to move in with her was a big deal. Though, it wasn't like they weren't already living together to begin with. But now, she was asking for permanence and for some strange reason. Tony wasn't afraid of it. For some reason, one he couldn't put his finger on, Tony wanted it too.

He felt her harden in his arms and realized just how long he had waited to answer. He gave her a squeeze. "You realize you'll never be able to get rid of me, then. It'll be a ridiculous amount of movies and movie references." She didn't say anything and he realized that she thought he was avoiding the question. "Good," he said. "I could get used to this."

And so could she.

* * *

**Please let me know what you think. I'll try to get the other one up faster. Stick with me! Please!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: So, I must apologize for just how long it took me to get this baby up! I'm sorry! I would like to make it up to you by giving you this extra long chapter. Anyway, I want to know if you want me to continue this story for a while or if you want me to sort of phase it out. I think it has the potential for quite the long story line and I am beginning to plant those seeds. . . Tell me what you think. P.S. I wanted to get this up fast therefore it is un-betaed so . . . yeah. **

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

Rachel awoke the next morning just as the sun was beginning to filter through the blinds that shrouded Ziva's windows. It was early but she didn't necessarily feel like trying to go back to sleep. It was morning; she now had an excuse to get up and she planned on using it. She rubbed her eyes and sat up on the couch. Rachel cracked her neck to the side. Sleeping on the couch, no matter the position, never ended well. She turned so that her feet were planted firmly on the carpet. That was when her eyes drifted over to them.

Seated on the floor, their backs resting against the leather ottoman and chair, Tony's arm was secured tightly around Ziva's waist as she leaned against his side, her head rested on his shoulder. Her hand was placed over his, not giving him the option to release her. Tony's head was tilted to the side, resting on top of Ziva's.

For a moment, Rachel just watched them. Years ago, when they were younger, Ziva had once told Rachel that she expected Rachel to get married and have a family because that was something that, with her job, she was never going to be able to do. She said she could make a really great aunt. Rachel remembered agreeing with her, she knew how dangerous and grueling it was to be Ziva David, and she promised her that she would always be known as Auntie Ziva. Rachel had seen the touch of sadness that had danced through the young eyes of the new Mossad operative. They had been Montreal, Rachel was on a school field trip and Ziva was working one of her first Mossad operations. The week before, Rachel had eagerly spoken to her on the phone. She was so excited to be going away by herself. Ziva had told her to call her if she had some free time. _You never know where I will be_ she had said. They had met for lunch, Rachel forgoing the three hours of free time in a Canadian mall.

Looking at her now, enveloped in Tony's arms, Rachel thought that she might actually get the chance to be more than an aunt and Rachel hoped that she got that chance with Tony.

Rachel flopped back down onto the cushions as the events of the night before came rushing back to her. She couldn't believe that she had been pushed to her breaking point again. She had tried so hard to stay home. She didn't want to have to go running to Ziva whenever something went wrong but it seemed that it was the only thing that she could manage to do. Rachel had felt like a small child when Tony had scooped her up in his arms and carried her crying form up the stairs. She wondered if she would ever be herself again.

Getting up from the couch, she ran her hands through her hair and hoped that at some point she had left some type of clothing in Ziva's spare bedroom. Rachel walked into the kitchen and began to make herself some coffee. She would snap herself out of this with some caffeine. She would need to be herself by Monday. If she weren't she wouldn't pass the _New Agent Battery. _And if she didn't pass that then she wouldn't become an NCIS agent. Rachel didn't even want to think about what would happen if she didn't become an NCIS agent. She supposed that she'd go back to that idea of becoming an interpreter at an embassy . . .

The coffee pot dinged and Rachel poured herself a generous cup - the more caffeine, the better.

"That's quite a large cup."

Rachel jumped at the sound of the male voice behind her. She took a quick second to relax and then turned to meet him. Tony probably thought that she was a total basket case by now. She hoped that he at least hadn't seen her jump.

"I like coffee," she responded. Rachel carefully avoided his eyes. She knew he would know that she was lying if he saw the look in her eyes.

"Alright." He nodded and moved over to the fridge. She sighed and watched as he took the orange juice out. He had let her off the hook this time. He must have known that him pressing would just be too much for her to handle.

"Where's Ziva?" she asked.

"I put her in bed, she needs all the sleep that she can get." He turned and looked at Rachel for a moment, suddenly realizing what his statement had just implied. "Not that we were bothered by you last night. You know we're glad you called . . . no, glad you came."

She nodded and put the now empty coffee mug in the sink. In a half a dozen large gulps she had managed to drain it in less than five minutes. Hopefully, it would set her up for a good day.

"You know," he continued, "when I woke up and saw that the couch was empty, I figured that you had like left or gone for a sunrise jog. Either would have been so Ziva of you. And you are so _Ziva like_."

"She's the only one who has ever understood me. Only one who hasn't thought I was crazy."

"That's because she _knows_ that you're crazy," he responded. He took to leaning against the counter and sipping his juice as he watched Rachel roll her eyes. They stood in silence for a moment. Rachel took to studying the tile floor as she thought about the question that had been burning in her mind since the night at the bar. She didn't know when she would be able to get Tony alone again. It was now or never.

"Can I ask you a question?" Her face had suddenly turned serious.

"Sure."

"Are you going to ask her to marry you? Someday, I mean." Rachel looked straight into his eyes. She didn't doubt that he loved Ziva but Rachel loved her too and she was determined to make sure that she had her opportunity at the dream she thought that she would never have.

"Someday," he said, his mind drifting back to the conversation that he had with Ziva just as they were about to fall asleep the night before. _She didn't want him to leave, ever_. He didn't want to either. He just didn't know when she would be ready for that. She was different now. "I don't know when that'll be, but I know that I don't want to marry anyone else." He paused. "She's not ready for anything too fast."

"I know," Rachel said, "I just wanted to make sure that my assumption was correct."

"Your assumption was correct."

* * *

Tony watched Rachel walk into the guest bedroom. She had just a little more ease in her step and Tony had the slightest suspicion that it had something to do with the assumption he had just confirmed.

Rachel was forward, that was for sure. He didn't mind though. If he were going to tell anyone about his true intentions with Ziva, it would be Rachel. In the course of a week, he had gone from having two girls in his life: Ziva and Abby, to having three: Ziva, Abby and Rachel.

Tony got up from the counter and walked down the hallway to the master bedroom. He turned the doorknob and quietly entered her bedroom. _Their bedroom?_

He stood in the doorway for a moment and watched the lump under the comforter rise and fall. He could really get used to this. He hoped that she wouldn't rethink her offer. She rolled from her back onto to her side. Her back was to him now.

Tony pushed himself off the doorframe and went to climb into bed behind her. This move could possibly be classified as pushing the boundaries. Sneaking up on a highly trained assassin in bed who has some serious post-traumatic stress disorder was probably a bad idea. But, he knew that pushing her was the right thing to do. He was helping her heal. It had been working thus far, anyway.

He slowly climbed under the covers and scooted himself closer to her. He draped a casual arm around her waist and whispered, "Just me," in her ear. He felt her body harden for half a second and he guessed that her heart skipped a beat or two. Tony only spent another second regretting his decision before she twisted in his arms and looked up at his face.

"Was that necessary?" she asked.

He nodded. It most certainly was. He stared into her eyes for a moment. His conversations with Rachel often left him reflective – reflective about Ziva, him and Ziva. They made him want to stare at her for prolonged periods of time. It was just like that night that he had waited for Ziva at her car, he had spent the afternoon talking to Rachel then too and when he saw her coming out of the building that night all he had wanted to do was hold her. Hold her and never let her go.

"Tony . . .?" She asked. She stretched out the end of his name. She didn't know what he wanted but she could feel his eyes traveling through her, trying to reach the inner depths of her soul.

"Zee-vah . . ." He ran his fingers through the strands of her hair that lay against his chest, twirling one around his pinky finger. He loved her hair. Wouldn't it be great to have a little girl running around with her hair? She'd be a little mini Ziva with a little bit of Tony running through her veins. She'd be gorgeous. She'd have the DiNozzo smile, too.

"About what I said last night," she began, "I did not mean to make you feel like . . ." She struggled for the right way to continue. Ziva knew that she had to give him a way out. She could not expect him to want to make that kind of commitment to her. She was still far too damaged and that was just too much to ask.

"Make me feel like what, Zi?" Tony wanted to see where she was going with this. He knew that she would try to take it back eventually.

"I was tired. It was late." She tried to make up a good excuse for asking him.

"Do you want to take the offer back?" He asked. He raised an eyebrow at her.

She looked down and simply nodded her head. She just kept telling herself to keep it together.

"No one likes an Indian giver, Sweetcheeks."

Ziva paused before answering him. "You know that I am Israeli . . ."

Tony couldn't help but smile when he saw the perplexed look on her face. It was more than he could handle. He hoped that she never stopped mixing up her American idioms.

"Its actually one of your beloved American idioms," he pulled his arm out from under her and propped his head up on his hand – he wanted to be able to see her face, her eyes. "An Indian giver is someone who gives something and then takes it back. And no one likes when _anyone_ does that."

"Does that mean . . .?"

"Yes, Ziva, it means that when I said that yes, I wanted to move in with you, I meant it. So, please, don't be an Indian giver."

She sat up from the bed and stared at the wall for a moment. Things don't seem as daunting when you're half conscious. This was a big deal. Tony moving in with her was a huge deal. Yet, she hadn't thought that that question would be so consequential when she was only half conscious. It had only seemed right, natural then.

Ziva rubbed her eyes. She sighed and then turned towards Tony. He had been staring at her the whole time. She loved him; she did. And she wanted him to always be around. But, ultimately, she was scared of all of the things that would follow the move in. It was just so much to handle. Almost too much.

She watched as Tony reached forward and brushed her arm. She had to give him _something_. He was trying so hard to make her feel comfortable, happy.

"Say something," he pleaded. His voice was soft, a raspy whisper that conveyed the desperation in his statement.

"I do not want to be an Indian giver." She said the last two words slowly, "But I am scared."

"Would it be _easier_ if I let you take it back?" Not that he wanted to let her take it back, but he recognized that it was possibly what she needed. Tony knew that this could just be too much for her handle.

"Yes."

"Do you want me to let you - "

"No."

"So, maybe I'll just slowly bring my stuff over and we won't make any big deal about it and soon my apartment will just be this nice empty place that I may or may not still pay for . . ."

Tony hoped that he could make this work for her. He wanted to make everything and anything work for her.

"I would like that."

Tony smiled. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Yeah, he could make this work. They both could.

* * *

Rachel stepped into the living room and slipped her pocket book onto her shoulder. She couldn't here any noise coming from the other end of the apartment. She figured that Tony had joined Ziva back in bed. It wasn't as if either of them had gotten much sleep the night before.

She decided not to bother them. Instead, she walked into the kitchen and scribbled a note onto the pad of paper near the phone. She knew that her ambiguous message would probably freak them out a bit but she needed a breather. She needed something to relax her. She needed some stress reduction. Anyway, it wasn't like Ziva wouldn't be able to decrypt her code.

She eased the door shut behind her and made her way down the stairs and to her car. Inside, she turned on the ignition and then reached over to the passenger seat. Rachel picked up her cell phone, which she had thrown down after hanging up with Ziva the night before. She had two missed calls and one new voice mail. Rachel typed in her password – Jacob's birthday – and waited to see who had been calling her.

"Rachel!" he began, "It's Ty. Hey, look, uh, its not the same without you here anymore . . ." He paused for a moment, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts. "Anyway, I heard through the grapevine that you got offered a position at NCIS. I worked with some of those guys when I was an intern – they're pretty interesting. Well, maybe we could get a drink or something – you know you could tell me how the other side lives." He chuckled and a small smile crept across Rachel's face. She'd always loved his anecdotal sayings. "Hope you're well. Give me a call."

Rachel took her car out of park and pulled out of the parking spot. She began to head west on Ziva's street. She didn't need to plug her destination into her GPS. She knew exactly where she was going.

* * *

Pete Travis did a double take when he saw Rachel Williams timidly enter his shooting range. Someone who used to frequent his business once a week, she hadn't been by in almost a month.

"Hey, Mr. Travis." She said giving the man who had taught her how to properly shoot a gun more than ten years ago a quiet greeting.

"Rachel," he said, a smile coming across his face. "When did you become such a stranger?"

"It's been a tough couple of weeks," she answered.

"Nothing I hope an hour on the range can't fix . . ."

"That's why I am here." She tried to sound upbeat but the statement came out more desperate than she had originally planned.

Pete Travis nodded and motioned for Rachel to follow him into the range. She did and he set her up with some of her favorite guns.

She thanked him and placed the safety glasses on her face. Rachel put the earplugs in her ears and allowed for the rest of the world to fade away. It was just her and the target. Just her and the gun.

When Rachel was eleven her father had brought her here so that she could learn how to properly handle a gun. They had a few at home and he wanted her to know how to use them. He didn't want to have to worry about any accidents. He didn't have time for that.

The first time she had pulled the trigger, a rush of adrenaline had soared through her body. It was invigorating; she had never felt anything like it. From that point on, she visited the range and the Travis family quite frequently. Mr. Travis' daughter – Sadie was only a year younger than her. Sadie was always hanging out around the range, although her father never let her touch a gun, and the girls became quite friendly. They had tried to stay in touch but Sadie went off to school at UVA, she got married while still in college, and it seemed that the two were just meant to lead two very different lives. Sadie was among the friends that Rachel had lost in her journey to the CIA.

When Rachel started training for the Agency, she came to the range every week. She wanted to really hone in on her skills. And she did. She became more than an expert handler and an even better firer. She hadn't really needed any of those skills at her position at the Agency; they didn't really like the whole idea of agents carrying weapons but Rachel just like having them. It was something she could just pull out of the back of her pocket. Literally.

She fired another round – this time going for the suspect's chest. Those were the easy shots. It was temple shots that were a challenge to her – when the target was moving, that is.

Rachel turned her body side ways. She was working on her one handed shots now. They had become her pet project before she went to Prague. She thought that they were the most practical. They were the ones that she thought could get her out of a serious situation.

A light tap came on Rachel's shoulder and she fought the urge to simply swing around with the gun. She let the weapon slide out her hands and turned to see Ziva standing behind her, her hands surrendering in the air.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed.

Rachel shook her head and slipped the earplugs out of her ears. She placed them down on the table and then turned back to Ziva. "I should've known that you would find me." She couldn't hide the smile on her face. It was nice knowing that someone knew you _that_ well.

"I do know what you mean when you say _stress reduction_. I hope you don't mind that I came."

"I was hoping you would."

Ziva picked a pair of glasses off of the wall and joined Rachel in the booth. "I need some stress reduction myself."

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked nervously. She hoped that Ziva wasn't going to give her the full Somalia story right now. She didn't know if she would be able to handle it or if she would be able to keep the fact that she had already known a secret.

"I asked Tony to move in with me last night."

Rachel's eyes went wide. Tony had failed to mention _that _detail in their conversation this past morning. "Oh my gosh, Ziva, that's, that's awesome!"

"I'm not quite sure if it is. The decision was rather rash on my part."

"He loves you. A lot." Rachel said. She turned and watched as Ziva fired the gun into the target's temple. "He told me."

"I know he does," Ziva said. "It is . . . complicated though."

"Where is he now?" Rachel asked. She wanted to change the subject. If she didn't, she would end up telling Ziva that she knew just how complicated it really was.

"He dropped me off. I figured we could drive home and chat. He is enlisting McGee's help with something."

"With what?"

"Moving boxes, I assume. He knows that I desperately want him to move in but that I get very nervous about it. He promised to down play the whole thing."

"Doesn't get better than that, Ziva," Rachel chided.

"I know," she sighed.

* * *

Timothy McGee groaned as he reached the door to Tony's apartment. He wasn't sure why he had agreed to come over here in the first place.

Tony had called him earlier that morning and asked him to come over and help him with something. He wouldn't say anything more. McGee had quickly reminded Tony that he was not his _home theatre guy_. Its not like that, he told McGee, this was something much bigger than HD streaming. That statement alone made McGee drive from his apartment in Silver Spring to Tony's in the city. What could Tony possibly think was more important than a movie?

"So, what's this about?" he asked as Tony opened the door to his apartment.

"If you use this against me, I swear McGee, I will kill you –" Tony warned.

"This has got to be something good."

"I need your help moving some things out of here."

"Did you get evicted?" McGee asked, raising a brow. It was then that McGee noticed the brown cardboard boxes that dotted his partner's apartment. Tony's movie collection was haphazardly sticking out of a box in front of his TV, there was a box in the kitchen that had various suits sticking out of it and tarps covered all of his furniture.

"No, Zi – someone asked me to move in with them."

"No way?" McGee asked in disbelief. He had caught Tony's attempt to cover up the name he had almost said.

"I warned you . . ."

"No, its just that this is moving pretty fast don't you think?"

"It's complicated." Tony said turning back towards his living room. He knelt down in front of the box and shifted the various DVDs so that they fit more properly in the cardboard. He closed the top and yanked a piece of duck tape from the roll on the floor.

"Well, yeah, I mean ya' think?" Tim shook his head. "Let's see, first of all you killed her last boyfriend. Her father hates you. She stayed in Israel because she couldn't trust you. She's not exactly emotionally stable, the whole being held hostage for three months thing. You're her partner. You're breaking one of Gibbs rules. You're probably breaking one of NCIS' rules."

"NCIS doesn't have a fraternization policy," Tony stated evenly. "And she is perfectly emotionally stable." He picked up the box and deposited it near McGee's position at the door.

"Oh yeah," McGee said sarcastically, "She looked it when she stepped out of interrogation the other day. She was sweating profusely and nearly cried when I walked out of observation not you."

Tony was interested now. He stopped packing up his small kitchen and turned towards McGee. He raised an eyebrow. "Where was I?" He asked.

"How am I supposed to know? It was when you disappeared for the afternoon."

"Damn it." Tony muttered under his breath and turned back to his boxes.

"Whatever, if you and Ziva think this is a good idea, then maybe it is."

"It was her idea." Tony reminded him.

McGee moved from his spot by the door and joined Tony in the kitchen. He began to take glasses from the cabinets and wrap them in the newspaper that Tony had left on the floor. He had to admit; he thought they were moving a little fast. He knew that there was something going on between them. He had known that before Ziva had admitted it to him and he wouldn't deny the fact that there had always been unmistakable chemistry between them. But still. Did they have _any_ idea what this would do to the team if things went south? Did they realize what this would do to _him_ if it went downhill? He'd have to pick sides and _that_ certainly would not end well for Tim.

"So," McGee asked a few moments later, "Why'd you ask me to help you move? Why not Ziva or one of your. . .friends?"

"That's where it gets complicated, Probie."

"You don't have friends?"

"Not that part," Tony snapped. "_Ziva_. She wants me to move in but it . . . freaks her out, so I'm going to do it gradually, when she's not around."

"This _is_ messed up." McGee sighed. Tim's brain floated back to the scene of he and Ziva outside of interrogation. She definitely wasn't ok. "Tony, just tell me this. Is she like okay? Is she Ziva again? Because she sure doesn't seem like it."

"She's a lot better than she was a month ago, McGee, I'll tell you that. She has a ways to go, though."

"And you moving in with her is going to help?"

"I practically live there now." Tony moved towards his bedrooms. He stood in the center of the hallway and taped the box that contained some of his favorite suits shut. "I haven't slept here since maybe late October."

"Seriously?" McGee asked from the other room.

"Seriously."

* * *

The sun was beginning to set in rural Virginia when Rachel and Ziva decided that it was finally time to leave the gun range. They said goodbye to Mr. Travis and Rachel thanked him for his continuous hospitality. He asked her to stop being such a stranger and she promised not to. Rachel said she hoped to return to her weekly visits. Mr. Travis said that he looked forward to it and hoped that she would bring her friend with her as well.

Ziva was pleased. The afternoon in the shooting range had calmed her down a bit. She hoped that by the time she and Rachel got back Tony had moved some of his things over. Rachel was right. It didn't get better than having someone like Tony.

The women got into Rachel's care and settled in for the ride back to the District. They hadn't spent this much time alone with each other in quite some time and they both regarded it as a nice reminder of the way things use to be. Once upon a time they were really all each other had. In fact, Ziva realized, she was still most of what Rachel had. She hoped that one day, some day, Rachel would have someone like she had in Tony, someone who understood her past, her family and her idiosyncrasies. It was only fair that it went both ways.

"So, Tyler called me last night," Rachel announced breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between the two non-biological sisters.

"Tyler, as in your partner at the CIA?" Ziva asked. She didn't try to hide the surprise in her voice.

"Ex-partner. But, yeah, that one."

"What did he say?"

"He heard that I got offered a job at NCIS," Rachel paused to see Ziva's reaction to that particular statement. "He wants to meet for drinks, he wants to catch up I think."

"And . . .?" Ziva pressed for her to continue.

"And I'm meeting him tonight. I texted him while we were in the range. We're meeting at 7."

"Is there something you should be telling me about this guy?" Ziva asked in response to the five different shades of red that Rachel had turned while announcing her plans for the evening.

"Like you have the right to ask . . ." Rachel joked.

"I know. I know," Ziva through her hands up in the air in surrender.

"No, absolutely not." Rachel answered. "I'm honestly only going to see if I can find anything out about my father."

"Oh, Rachel . . . " Ziva shook her head. She didn't want Rachel to think that by meeting with Tyler she would miraculously fix her relationship with her father.

"I know what you're going to say, Ziva," Rachel warned, "Don't say it."

"Alright. But, you will call after -"

"I will."

* * *

_Tony wiped the sweat off his forehead as he entered the air-conditioned building that housed NCIS. It was late July and the southern heat had descended upon the nation's capital. Tony sighed as he hit the elevator button. He hated the summer. Absolutely hated it. He wanted to go back to the winter. Things were better in the winter. People were better in the winter._

_The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival and Tony stepped in. He was so dazed and wrapped up in his hatred for the summer, this summer, in particular, that he didn't even notice McGee's presence in the small box. _

"_Tony?" he asked._

_Tony didn't respond. He had nothing to say to McGee. He didn't have anything to say to anybody anymore. The only person he had anything to say to was gone. She was gone and she hated him. He was thinking of taking a vow of silence. _

_They rode the box further down and suddenly Tony realized that he had never hit the button for the squad room. _

"_Where are we going?" _

"_I am going to the evidence garage." _

"_Guess I'm headed there too." _

_The two partners continued their ride to the basement in silence. It wasn't that things had been strained between the two since they had lost their third team member it was just that Tony hadn't been himself since they had lost their third team member and McGee just didn't know what to with this new Tony. He was lifeless. _

_The elevator dinged once again and they made their way out of metal box and into the evidence garage. McGee typed in his access code and the fenced in area was opened to them. _

_Tony leaned against the wall and watched as McGee filed various case reports into their respective boxes. _

"_I really made a mistake, didn't I, Tim?"_

"_Made a mistake with what?"_

"_I think I love her. Damn it!" He smashed his fist into a shelf behind him. "I'm in love with Ziva."_

"_Tony . . ."_

"_I'm in love with her and I didn't even get to take her on a date, Tim." _

"_Tony, listen,"_

"_No, biggest mistake of my life. I had years worth of opportunities and I joked and kidded all of them away."_

_McGee didn't know what to say to Tony's confessions. They were true. McGee could see that Tony is, was in love with Ziva. And it was true; Tony had missed of all of his opportunities. But, that wasn't what disturbed McGee the most out of the whole conversation. What bothered him the most was that Tony had realized both of those things and admitted them and to himself, nonetheless. His partner was a broken down man. This was not the Tony that he had met years ago and he wasn't sure if that Tony would ever come back. _

"_It's too late now," the Senior Field Agent said. He unlocked the gate and left McGee alone in the evidence lock._

* * *

Tony was breaking down boxes when he heard a key insert into the lock. He quickly finished the last box and threw it into the closet before the door opened.

McGee had just left. The two men had spent a majority of the afternoon packing up things that Tony considered absolutely necessary for everyday life – his entire movie collection, all of his designer suits and shoes and what appeared to be the fan store at Ohio State. Tony had been surprised. McGee had been very helpful and it actually hadn't been unpleasant working with him. The two male agents had definitely grown closer over the summer. Tony had been a wreck and McGee was the only one who had been able to keep him going, keep him from doing something reckless.

Shutting the closet door, Tony turned and watched as Ziva pushed the door open and entered the apartment. She smiled at him as she placed her keys and bag on the kitchen table.

"Hey!" he greeted. He walked over and pulled her into his arms.

"Hi."

"How was the range?"

"It was good," she said not moving from within his arms, "We need to go more often, I am getting a little rusty."

"Yeah," he laughed at the idea of Ziva's skill with firearms ever becoming rusty, "Okay."

"Really."

"Fine, next date we'll go to the shooting range."

"That would be our first date, Tony."

She was right. He had never taken her on a real date. Sure, they'd come close recently with all the late night dinners together and there _was_ that day last week where they did actually eat out at the Thai restaurant. But still, he had never taken her on a real date. It was the thing he regretted most and yet he still hadn't done it. Well, not the thing that he had regretted most. That, of course, was telling her how much he loved her. He'd done that. Nonetheless, a real date was high on his list of regrets. It was just something he'd have to make up for.

"You're right," he admitted after a moment, "that would be our first _real_ date."

She raised an eyebrow at him before saying, "then, lets go back tomorrow."

"Miss David," he began to contest, "I'm a little offended that you think I would be okay with our first _real_ date taking place in a gun range."

"It is not cinematic enough for you?"

"I don't get all my romance from the movies, you know . . ."

"Just ninety-nine percent of it."

With that comment, he pulled her back against his chest. She raised another eyebrow at him. He couldn't let her think that the only romantic bones his body had been borrowed from the greats. No, no Tony DiNozzo was a romantic at heart and he was determined to show her that tonight. Tony pulled her across the kitchen and did his best ballroom dancing interpretation. Ziva couldn't help but laugh at him.

"I'm taking you out tonight!" he announced.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

* * *

Rachel had gotten back to her apartment just before six. This, she thought, gave her plenty of time to meet Tyler down the street in an hour. She showered, got dressed and did her hair and make – up. It was a stark contrast from how she had looked the last time she was in her apartment.  
Now, at quarter of seven, came the question of the evening: to bring her weapon or to not bring her weapon? The last time she had been out she'd brought it and that had been with two highly trained federal agents who could protect her from almost anything. She shook her head in disgust. She didn't actually need her weapon. She knew that her fear of the men from Prague re-appearing was simply a game that her mind was playing against her. She decided against it. She assumed that Tyler would be a little more unsettled than Tony or Ziva would have been if he found out that she was carrying. Looking in the mirror one last time, Rachel headed out of her apartment.

The bar that she was meeting Tyler at was just three blocks away and surprisingly she didn't feel the need to look over her shoulder the whole way there. The night in the city was becoming increasingly cold and part of Rachel wished that she had worn more than her leather jacket.

Rachel arrived at the bar just a few minutes after seven and spotted Tyler sitting at one of the high tables near the bar. She took a deep breath before walking over. She was just here to catch up with a coworker. She didn't want romance and she most certainly didn't want to hear about her father.

Tyler saw her standing by the door and waved her over. Her smile widened and she walked over to greet him. He got up from the table and gave her a hug.

"It's so good to see you, Rach," he said.

"Good to see you, too, Ty."

They settled into the table and Rachel ordered a beer. She certainly wasn't going to get as drunk as she had with Ziva and Tony. They settled into comfortable introductory conversation – discussing how cold it had gotten this evening and that winter was certainly beginning to settle on the city. The waiter returned and they ordered some appetizers to snack on as they chatted. It was after the waiter left that the real conversation began.

"So, NCIS, huh?" Tyler took a sip of his drink as he eyed Rachel. He'd always really enjoyed working with her and was curious as to why she had so suddenly jumped ship.

"Well, I haven't started working there yet. My first day is actually Monday. I'm excited about it." She shrugged her shoulders. "People there seem to like it."

"No, yeah, I mean, I've heard it's a pretty good agency. They've seemed to have gotten their shit really in order over there."

"I don't think any place is perfect."

"Of course not." Tyler nodded. "How'd you get in there so fast?"

"I have a friend who works on their Major Case team and I guess they were looking for a new Agent so . . ."

"Well, congrats."

"Thanks." Rachel took another sip of her beer. She could see the disappointment on Tyler's face. Had he thought that she would come back to the CIA after meeting him? Was that what this was about?

Their food arrived and they settled into easier conversation. Tyler, a fellow Georgetown graduate, asked Rachel if she had been to any games lately. It was basketball season, wasn't it? They ate and chatted for a while and Rachel was reminded of why she and Tyler had gotten along so well at work. They didn't have the Tony-Ziva partnership. They couldn't see inside of each other but they did have some sense of understanding between them. Rachel knew that Tyler felt that he had played some role in the incident in Prague. He had been told to stay Stateside for it but she knew that he felt he should have sent people looking for her earlier. He should have pushed for him to be allowed to join her. Rachel didn't blame Tyler, though. He wasn't the reason that she'd left the Agency.

As they finished the food, conversation turned more serious. She could tell the Tyler was digging. Rachel just hoped that he was digging for the right reasons.

"My father didn't send you, did he?" Rachel asked. She didn't want to sound so forward but there wasn't a better way to phrase this.

"No, no!" He was a little flustered now. "I mean, I will tell you, he has asked me about you a couple times but I would never go prod for him without at least telling you."

"I'm sorry, I just had to ask."

"It's completely understandable," he nodded his head. "I think he would have loved for me to offer to but I wouldn't want to do that to you."

Rachel smiled. Yes, this was why she liked Tyler. His loyalty could never be bought. It always had to be earned and it seemed that Rachel had earned his loyalty.

"Thank you." She said.

* * *

"Tony," Ziva called from the bathroom. She waited for him answer. He'd insisted that wherever they go be a surprise and therefore she had absolutely no idea what to wear.

Normally, Ziva David hated surprises. Mossad had taught her to always be as aware as you possibly can of what you are walking into. Surprises did not allow for that. Tonight was different, though. She could tell that this was important to Tony and she decided that this would be a good practice of trust for her. She trusted Tony and therefore she decided to let him surprise her.

"Tony!" she called again. She was standing in front of the sink in only her bathrobe. She certainly wasn't going to go parading through the apartment looking for him.

"Yes, _my_ lady?" he asked, appearing in the doorway. Ziva couldn't help but get a little uncomfortable. She looked down. She did have nothing else on under the robe . . .

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the thought out of her mind. "You don't have to tell me where we're going but, I do need to know what to wear."

"I don't care."

"Well, is it fancy?" He wasn't being very helpful and she realized then that he was staring at her.

"A little. Not too fancy, though. Like nicer casual." She watched him run his eyes up and down her body. She hoped that he didn't think that he was going to get lucky tonight. That was still a _ways_ off.

"Nicer casual, huh?"

"Yup," he said pulling himself out of the door. She assumed that he had decided that he couldn't take the temptation anymore. Her stomach flipped. She just didn't understand how he still found her so attractive after everything.

A half hour later, she was ready to go. She had taken the _nice casual_ to another level once she saw that he was wearing one of his favorite suits. They walked hand in hand out of the apartment and down the stairs. Because only Tony knew where they were going, they took Tony's car and Tony drove. Ziva reminded herself that she was exercising trust and self control.

Tony drove them out of the city and took the beltway south. Ziva was more than surprised to find out that they weren't going to some swanky restaurant downtown. What was Tony DiNozzo up to?

They chatted idly as Tony drove. He could tell that she was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as they got farther from the city. He decided to use his charm to try and distract her. They'd be there soon.

It wasn't until they were out of Alexandria and still cruising along that Ziva realized she was unable to hide her unease. She should have just made Tony tell her where they were going. He would have understood.

"Doing alright?" he asked.

"I do not like surprises," she admitted.

"I know." He took his right hand off the steering wheel and reached over and laced his fingers through hers. "You'll like this one, I promise."

She smiled at him and nodded. Something about his hand in hers made things all the more better.

Just a few moments later, Ziva turned to Tony and raised an eyebrow as she saw the sign for Mount Vernon, George Washington's country estate.

"What are we doing here, Tony?"

"Well, you're all into the history thing now, studying for your exam so, I thought you'd like Mount Vernon. Plus, the inn over there," he pointed to the white house at the far end of the parking lot, "serves candlelit dinners."

"You are very sweet," she said squeezing his hand. She had to admit she was a little surprised at how thoughtful the whole thing was.

They parked the car and headed into the restaurant. Tony and Ziva were seated at a table by the window. Their view over looked the glistening Potomac. They ordered drinks and looked over the menu, all the while unable to keep their eyes off each other for more than a moment at a time.

Tony was proud of himself. He had finally managed to take Ziva on a date and in his opinion, a pretty good one at that. If he had known this summer that things were going to end up like this he may have faired a bit better. The fire behind them lit up her face and in that second Tony was quit positive that he had never known a woman as gorgeous as Ziva David.

Their waiter returned a few moments later and they ordered their meals. Ziva couldn't help but wonder how she had gotten here. She was sitting in the restored colonial home of one of the founding fathers of America with a man who loved her more than she would ever be able to understand. She would have shot you with her gun if you had told her this years ago as she stood under Israel's beating sun listening to her father tell her that romance should never be a priority. She realized then, as she watched Tony glide his fingers across her hand that she was exactly where she was supposed to be with exactly whom she was supposed to be with.

They spent their dinner laughing at each other's jokes, holding each other's hands and basking in each other's presence. It was the first time that they had allowed themselves to just be a couple. Gone was the stress of work and friends and events of missions gone array. For a little while, they were just Tony and Ziva – happy.

After dinner and desert Tony led Ziva out behind the Inn and towards Mount Vernon itself. It was dark out but George Washington's house was illuminated by lights. They strolled down the path and took a seat in some rocking chairs that were placed on the old porch. A cold winter wind whipped off the river forcing them to decided to head back. Tony gladly wrapped his jacket around her shoulders and then took his girlfriend under his arm.

And under the stars and under the protection of one of America's founding fathers they kissed. They kissed with more passion than either of them had ever allowed themselves or the other to exhibit. Tony wrapped his hand around the back of Ziva's head and she locked her arms around his neck. They stood there for what could have been hours and enjoyed each other. Just really enjoyed each other. It was the first time in a very, very long time that the only thing on Ziva's mind was Tony.

At some point, they realized that they were freezing and broke away from each other. They headed back up the path and back to his car. He held his arm around her shoulder, reaching down to grab her right hand and twine his fingers through hers. She wrapped her other arm around his waist.

"Good first date?" he asked.

"I think so."

* * *

**A/N 2: Thoughts and, of course, favorite lines please! **


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm going to just stop apologizing for the length of time between chapters. Clearly, that's just what happens. Anyway, its summer so, maybe there's hope. **

**This is a bit of a filler. Sort of... : )**

**Let me know. **

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

It was just past eleven when Tony and Ziva arrived back at _their_ apartment after dinner. Ziva was making a point to call it _theirs_.

She kept Tony's hand squeezed inside of hers as she searched her purse for her keys. Ziva hated this bag; she could never find anything in it. Had she been alone, she would have located her keys prior to leaving her car. But, Tony was with her so she didn't feel uncomfortable standing vulnerable in the hallway of her apartment building. Finally, after a moment of rummaging, she felt metal against her fingers and triumphantly pulled the key chain from the depths of her bag. Still only using one hand, she slid it into the hole and twisted the knob, opening the house to them.

Tony shut the door behind them and flicked the light switch on the wall. Ziva held his hand in a vice grip and he didn't dare try and let go. Not that he wanted to, anyway. Stepping away from him a bit, she set her bag down on the counter. He pulled her back towards him and led them to the couch.

The two landed on the couch and Ziva took her usual spot under Tony's arm. She leaned against him and watched as his fingers drew intricate patterns up and down her arm. He wasn't doing much to help her fight this urge that she had inside of her right now. It was one she hadn't felt in quite some time and one that she was, quite frankly, afraid of.

After a moment, she decided to act and simply see where that brought her. Earlier in the night she had watched him eye her up and down, and she had silently hoped that he didn't think that anything was going to happen tonight. She wasn't ready for _that._ But now, all her mind could think about was the kiss that they had shared under the stars. She wanted more – more of that kiss and more of _him_.

Hesitantly, she turned in his arms and sat up. She stared at him for a moment. He hadn't turned on the TV even though the remote sat just beside him on the table. He was thinking, too. He looked back at her and widened his eyes a bit. Ziva grabbed Tony's hand and pulled him with her until her back was against the opposite arm of the couch.

He followed and once she stopped moving and settled against the arm, he positioned himself just above her. He was careful to make sure that she didn't feel trapped or pinned. That had gotten him into trouble before. She smiled at him, that devilish grin of seduction that he hadn't seen on _his _ninja in some time, and something inside of him snapped.

"Want something?" he asked, a grin coming across his face.

"You."

He smiled at her statement and took her lips in his. There was something about her being his that just made Tony come unglued. He could barely contain himself when he thought about it. He had always envied the man that got to kiss Ziva. He tried to keep that thought out of his mind as he tasted her lips – he didn't want to totally lose control.

Her lips – he hadn't remembered them being so sweet earlier in the evening and he hadn't remembered this fire that tore through him as he kissed her, either.

Tony was just about to come up for air when he felt her mouth open just a bit wider. An invitation? She'd let him know if it wasn't.

Their tongues tangoed until it was evident that both of their bodies were in need of some serious oxygen.

Ziva gasped as Tony's lips left her own. She thought for a moment that he was finished. Then she felt him begin to trail light kisses from the base of her neck, one by one, up to the very corner of her mouth. The room was suddenly becoming very hot.

Her mind floated off for a moment. She was surprised that she hadn't panicked yet. Then, she supposed that it was the way that Tony kissed her – the way he held onto her hips as his mouth trailed down the other side of her neck. There was no roughness, no violence; he wasn't forcing her down as his hand held onto her. He was loving her. And _that _made the difference.

Ziva wasn't sure what came over her, but she found herself undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. All she knew was that she wanted more. She wanted so much more.

Surprised himself, Tony looked at her for a moment. He expected to see some kind of confusion or fear in her eyes but he didn't see anything in her eyes except clarity. She knew what she was doing and it was exactly what she wanted.

"Two can play that game," he teased.

He reached down her side and slowly dragged the zipper of her dress from just below her arm all the way to her hip.

Ziva's breath hitched in her throat and she tensed for a moment as she felt Tony's fingers undo her dress. He must have felt her harden because he looked up and into her eyes to make sure that what he was doing was okay with her – to make sure that she wanted him to do this. She nodded and he slipped the dress above her hips and over her head. It joined his shirt on the floor and he went back to work on her neck.

At that moment, a cold breeze hit her and she was reminded of the few nights she had been forced spend naked in the desert. It was before they had given her clothes back. The desert is very deceiving. Although it blazes like fire during the day, the nights are cold and windy. She shivered – she couldn't do this.

Suddenly, she felt a hand dance along her hairline. He grazed his fingers through her dark hair. Tears were welling in her eyes. She didn't understand. Moments ago, all she could think of was Tony, but now her mind hovered somewhere in the fog between her past and _their_ present.

"You all right?" he whispered.

"I…I can't." she struggled to form the words that she needed to say.

He nodded. "Tell me what's going through your head."

"I'm cold," she began and he moved from above her and off the couch. He grabbed the blanket that covered the leather chair across the room. Coming back to her, he wrapped it around her pulled her back under his arm. She leaned back against him and he felt her breathing move back in the direction of what would be considered normal. He looked down at her and she continued, "In the beginning, just after I was captured, they stripped me. For a week, I was in a cell with no clothes on. I was freezing. That was when _it_ started. But, then, they gave them back to me. They ordered me to put them on. Evidently, he enjoyed taking them off."

Tony pulled Ziva closer to him as he listened to her speak. It was painful to hear of the things that she had endured. He swore that the image of her naked body cowering in the corner of a dusty cell would never leave his mind.

"I love you," he said, kissing the top of her head. It was the only form of comfort he could offer.

"I wanted to tonight…"

"We will, don't worry." He thought about adding a dirty joke to end of his statement but hearing the disappointment and sadness in her voice, her decided against it.

"But, I thought that tonight I was ready. I felt ready."

"Hey, look at me," he said, tapping her chin. She reluctantly turned her head to look at him. "In the beginning, you flinched when I kissed your forehead, you stiffened when I hugged you – you're getting there."

She nodded and turned her body so that she could snuggle her head into his chest. She didn't feel cold anymore.

* * *

Monday morning Rachel drove herself to the Navy Yard. She'd already had two cups of coffee and felt as if there was nothing that the _New Agent Battery_ could throw at her that she couldn't handle. She parked her car in the visitors' section of the NCIS parking lot, as she still didn't have an I.D. badge, and headed towards Human Resources.

She had decided not to go see Tony and Ziva before her first psych evaluation. She didn't need them in her head. She had to be focused – she had to be on her game.

It wasn't as if she was avoiding them. Rachel had talked to Ziva multiple times on Sunday. She called Sunday morning and told her about her evening with Tyler. She assured her that they had just been two old co-workers catching up. Rachel said that the conversation had never gone anywhere deep and she certainly didn't tell her that she thought she might have some type of feelings for Tyler. Ziva would have freaked if she had heard that.

Rachel was excited to hear about Tony and Ziva's date. She and Ziva giggled as they discussed just how romantic Agent DiNozzo could be when he wanted to be. She was glad that they both seemed genuinely happy with where things were going. It gave her hope for her own future.

They talked again later that day when Ziva called to "prep" her for the _New Agent Battery_. Tony jumped on the line and told her to stop by the squad room for a pep talk beforehand. She politely declined. She told them both that she'd be fine; she could do this.

Rachel walked into Human Resources and sat down in the waiting area. She was beginning to rethink her statement to Tony and Ziva. Maybe she couldn't do this.

She grabbed a magazine off of the side table and flipped through it. _Newsweek_ was running a story on corruption in the CIA. How fitting. She put it back on the table and closed her eyes. Maybe she could achieve some type of Zen before she had to go in.

Just a few moments later, a small woman was leading her back to a small room equipped with a leather couch. Rachel sighed. She hated psychiatrists or psychologists or whoever this woman was.

The conversation started easy enough. Dr. Powers asked her about her previous experience and why she liked this line of work so much. Rachel could easily answer those questions. It was when they began to talk about Prague, and Rachel's childhood, and her relationship with her father that things became challenging. She knew that the doctor would be able to tell if she was lying or if she was holding anything back so, she tried to just casually tell the truth. She tried to, nonchalantly, explain everything. That, of course, ended with her in tears.

Rachel was surprised, though. Dr. Powers seemed to expect her to be upset with her father. She seemed to think it was normal that Rachel was struggling between being her father's daughter and being his employee.

The doctor wrapped up her session with Rachel after two hours. She discussed things that she thought might cause Rachel problems at NCIS, namely, her personal relationship with Ziva. Rachel nodded her head. She had feared that this would be a problem. Dr. Powers turned back to her notes and wrote a few things down.

"Your relationship with Agent David could be a liability," she said, "it may cause you and her, for that matter, to act irrationally under duress." Rachel nodded and the woman continued, "But, I am relatively familiar with Agent Gibbs and the way he runs his team, I don't necessarily condone it, but I think that you would be just as much as a liability as any of them. They're tight knit. Sometimes, it works to their advantage, other times, it doesn't. You'll work well with them."

She then handed Rachel her paper work that said that she had passed her psych evaluation. She could even pick up her I.D. badge. Rachel couldn't help but smile as she left the office. The hardest part was over. The polygraph and the firearms proficiency test were tomorrow. She could most certainly handle that and after she passed those, she would officially be Special Agent Rachel Williams, NCIS.

She could get used to that.

* * *

Ziva stood over the stove Monday night, thinking about Rachel. She had been so happy when Rachel stopped by the bullpen to tell her and Tony that she had passed her psych evaluation.

Tony had grabbed her by the waist and carried her around the bullpen in what he called her "celebratory lap." McGee had proceeded to enlighten Tony and remind him that Rachel was an Agent, now and that his behavior would be considered "red light behavior." Tony promptly put her down.

Gibbs had been there, too and Ziva was pretty sure that Rachel's eyes had lit up when Gibbs had said, "Hard part's over, Probie." He already thought of her as being part of the team and that was just what Rachel needed.

Ziva had made the executive decision on dinner that night. She thought that she and Tony had been eating too much take-out lately. It was not good for either of their healths. They hadn't been at work too late tonight so she decided to make dinner.

Ziva had always loved cooking. When she first started working at NCIS, Rachel gave her a cookbook of "all-American" dishes. Every night she tried making something different. Some Saturdays she and Rachel would lay out dozens of recipes and see just how many of them they could accomplish.

"Do you want some help?" Tony asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He laid his head on her shoulder.

"You should be careful," she warned, holding up the utensil that she was currently using to chop onions. "I do have a lot of knives at my disposal right now."

"Is that a no?"

"Go watch the game, I will tell you when I need help."

"Alright, Sweetcheeks." He kissed her neck and then disappeared back into the living room and back onto the couch.

Ziva was making some serious headway on cutting all of the vegetables when the landline rang. She assumed it would be a telemarketer and almost let it go, but then decided against it. She hated letting the phone ring.

She hardly ever used this line. No one knew the number, it had come with the apartment and she had never got around to disconnecting it. She had been a little preoccupied back then.

"Hello," she answered. She wasn't even really paying attention. She was more concerned about the chicken that was currently defrosting on her counter.

"Ziva." A heavily accented male voice stated.

Ziva stopped thinking about the chicken.

It wasn't.

He wouldn't be calling her.

That was far too bold for him.

They hadn't even spoken since before…

"Who is this?" she demanded.

He let out a small and cocky chuckled. "Ziva, you know who this is."

He was calm – too calm for her liking. She didn't know why he was calling. She didn't really _want_ to know why he was calling. Ziva contemplated hanging up on him for a minute.

"What I do _not_ know," she paused and took a deep breath, trying her best to keep her voice even and authoritative, "is _why_ you are calling me and _how_ you got this number."

Her voice was raising now and her mind was spinning, so much so that she didn't notice Tony get up from the couch and slowly make his way into the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about.

"To answer your second question," Eli David said, "I'm sure you know that I have my ways, Ziva."

Tony stopped in the kitchen doorway and leaned himself against the door. Ziva's eyes were wide as she stared down at the counter top. She put her hand on her forehead and then quickly moved it away, slamming it on the counter.

"You have been watching me?" she spat.

"It is for your own well being, Ziva."

She didn't like the way that he kept putting her name at the end of every sentence. She felt like she was being played. It was a manipulation tactic.

"You have never done anything for my well being." A small and sarcastic laugh escaped her chest. "And I can assure you that I do not need, nor want, your protection."

"Ziva, I want you to come back…back to Tel Aviv."

"Back to Mossad?" she clarified. She knew that that was what he was really talking about. All business, no pleasure. Her hands were beginning to shake and she grabbed the counter to steady herself.

"It is where you belong."

"You accepted my resignation months ago. It was _final_!"

"Ziva!" It was Eli's turn to raise his voice. He was getting angry with her now. "You belong with me, not Agent Gibbs, not _him_, not them. Do not forget that Anthony killed Michael out of pure jealousy. He is rash – out of control! That is not someone who I want _my _daughter associating with, let alone sleeping with!"

She couldn't believe that he would _dare_ to go there will her. Michael had been his fault – his pawn. None of it had been real. It hadn't. He didn't get to this to her. He didn't get to do this to her. He was the reason that she was the way she was. He didn't get to do this.

"Just so you know," she bit her lip as tears began to escape her eyes. Her voice was starting to crack. She would not cry in front of Eli. He did not have that power over her. She would not show such weakness. She tried to continue, "I am not sleeping with Tony because . . ." She wanted to throw it in his face and tell him that the only reason that she hadn't slept with him was because of the damage that _his_ mission had done to her. But, she couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

She held her breath; she wouldn't cry.

She wouldn't cry.

* * *

Eli had been yelling so loudly that Tony could hear him from the few feet away that he stood and he didn't like what he was hearing but, more importantly, he didn't like what he was seeing. Her grip on the counter tightened as she tried to throw their relationship in Eli's face. She couldn't do it, though. She looked like she was going to be sick when she tried to throw the truth in her father's face. Ziva was crumbling and Tony couldn't stand and watch her any longer.

He moved from the kitchen doorway to stand behind her. He put a hand on her back and, as if she had some sort of magnetism towards him, she immediately turned herself into him.

She still held the phone to her ear. She still held her breath in her throat.

He took the phone out of her hand and waited for her to give him permission to end this. This wasn't fair to her and he wouldn't stand by and watch any longer. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed over with tears, and nodded just once.

"Thanks for the call," he said and hung the phone back on the receiver.

Ziva let out the breath that she had been holding and violent sobs over took her body. Tony hadn't seen her cry this hard in a very long time and he had to fight the urge to call Eli _Dah-vid _back and absolutely tear him to shreds. Who the hell did he think he was calling her up and ripping her to pieces like that? He hadn't earned that right.

His attention, though, was brought back to the woman in front of him as he felt her ball up his shirt in her fist. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her head down to rest against his chest. They had had such a great day – a great weekend. Damn Eli for ruining it.

He kissed the top of her head. He didn't know what else to do. He held her for a few moments as she shook against his chest. He rubbed his hands up and down her shoulder. There was nothing he had come to hate more than seeing Ziva upset. It tore something up inside of him.

A few moments later, Ziva took a muffled breath against his chest. She lifted her head up and took a step back from his arms. She was trying to pull herself back together. She crossed her arms across her chest – she was suddenly very cold. She leaned back against the counter top and looked at the ground.

That had been bad. She hadn't liked what Eli could still do to her. She thought she had separated herself from him. She thought she had cut all ties. She didn't like this feeling.

After studying the floor tiles for a moment, her eyes rose to meet Tony's. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was swollen from crying. Tony couldn't stand not touching her right now. She looked so broken. He _had_ to hold her together. He took both her hands and laced his fingers through hers.

"He cannot just call and tear apart the only people who care about me," she said.

"Not the way to win you back," Tony agreed.

"Well, _that_ is not possible to begin with."

Tony nodded.

They stood and stared at each other for a few minutes. He took to idly playing with her hands, hoping it would distract her. He could see all of the gears turning inside of her head. He wondered what she was thinking. Then, suddenly, she looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear.

"He's been watching us." Ziva said. "He's seen us in bed. We need to leave." She broke away from him and moved toward the windows in the living room. She lifted a shade and peered outside.

"Ziva…" He began, slowly, calmly.

"Tony, I don't want to be here if there is someone from Mossad lurking around every corner." She moved from window to window, scanning the street.

"Ziva," he said, again. He hadn't moved from his spot in the kitchen. What the hell had come over her?

"Tony, please!" Her breathing was becoming labored again. She was panicking.

"Ziva, come here."

Tony, we-"

"Zi!" For a second, he thought that she was actually going to lose it on him.

She appeared in the kitchen doorway. She was biting her lip. She looked like a child who thought that there was a monster lurking under her bed. He hadn't seen her look so terrified since Saleem had held the knife up to her throat all those months ago.

He approached her slowly; he didn't know what could spook her right now. She made no move to run and he reached her and pulled her into his arms. As her head reached his chest, she fell apart again. He sighed and began to rub small circles on her back.

"You are safe, Ziva," he said, "I promise you, you are safe."

* * *

Gibbs had fallen asleep on a stool in his basement when his cell phone rang. He had gotten home early and headed down to his basement to work on his latest project.

He was taking his time on this one. He was hoping it wouldn't be needed _too_ soon. He thought he was being pretty good with this whole thing, but there was only so much he could take. In time, he would be ready for _that_, but certainly not now. Nevertheless, he had started the project on a whim a couple of months ago. He would finish it and then put it in the storage shed until it's time came. At that time, he hoped that each carving would tell a story from the beginning – the beginning that he had witnessed.

In the two months since beginning the project, he hadn't made much progress. Since he didn't think that time was really a factor, he worked only on parts that he wanted to and then moved on and to another part. There was no specific order.

He had just finished carving the symbol for infinity.

Satisfied with his work for the evening, Jethro took a seat on his stool and poured himself a glass of bourbon. He swung the glass back a few times, thinking about the beginnings that he'd had. In hindsight, only two had really mattered. Then again, it was really only one. The thoughts of the past were draining and after a while he was slumped over asleep.

It was close to midnight when Gibbs' phone woke him up. He took a moment to regain his surroundings before answering. He didn't bother checking the caller I.D. There was only a small group of people who would be calling him at this hour. He hoped that it wasn't Metro. He didn't feel like dealing with a body right now.

"Yeah." He said.

"Uh . . . hey, Boss," Tony said.

"Something I can do for you, DiNozzo?" He wanted Tony to get to the point. It was midnight after all and he had better things to do than entertain his Senior Field Agent's ramblings.

"Actually, yeah," Tony was whispering, something he rarely did, "Do you think you could come to Ziva's?"

"Something wrong?" Gibbs asked.

"Actually, yeah," Tony paused for a moment, "I just found a bug in Ziva's living room."

* * *

Tony waited for Gibbs to respond, but he never did. He heard a car engine turn on. He figured that that was an answer enough. Tony was about to hang up and just wait for Gibbs to arrive, when his boss gave him instructions.

"Call McGee, I'm on my way." He said.

Tony nodded, though Gibbs couldn't see him, and closed his phone. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

Why?

Taking another deep breath, he opened his phone, again and dialed Tim. Tony waited as the phone rang and rang and range. Rule number three – never be unreachable. Finally, on the fourth ring, a groggy sounding McGee answered.

"McGee." He said.

"McTired," Tony said, "You're needed at Ziva's." He didn't feel like elaborating even though he knew that McGee would ask for more information.

"Is something wrong?" McGee asked.

"Yes, Probie, something _is_." Tony was a little irritated. Though, he thought he had a good enough reason to be.

"Okay," McGee said hesitantly, "I'm on my way."

"Thank you." Tony let out an exasperated breath before hanging up on McGee. He put his phone back in his pocket and walked down the hallway to check on Ziva.

After having her panic attack and looking out the windows like a mad woman, she had completely fallen apart in Tony's arm. She was scared. Eli's phone call had stirred something in her.

After a few moments of holding her in the doorway, Tony had decided he couldn't take this anymore. He had placed an arm around her back and behind her knees and scooped her up. Not questioning him, Ziva had simply rested her head against his shoulder. He'd then proceeded to carry her to _their_ bedroom.

Tony had kicked the bedroom door open and laid her down on the bed. He'd climbed in after her and pulled her against his chest. He'd thought he'd heard a muffled apology, but had decided to ignore it. She had nothing to be sorry for. Director _Dah-vid_, on the other hand, had a whole litany of things to be extremely apologetic for. He absolutely _hated_ that man. Tony didn't care that he was _partially_ responsible for Ziva's existence. He was also _completely _responsible for her almost non-existence.

He'd thought she'd fallen asleep. Her breathing had leveled off. Her grip on his hand had slacked. Tony had moved to grab the blanket and tuck them in for the night when she'd grabbed his hand again.

"I'm just grabbing the covers," he had reassured her.

"Will you do me a favor?" she'd asked.

"Mhmm."

"Sweep the apartment." It was a quiet whisper, as if she was afraid to ask.

"Sweep for – Zi," he'd shook his head, she was really becoming paranoid, "It's fine, Zi, no one's got us bugged. He probably just assumed we'd –."

"Please, Tony." She'd pleaded. "For me?"

He'd sighed. How could he say "no"? "Yeah, okay. I will. Go to sleep. I'll be back in a few."

He'd leaned down and kissed her lips. He had to admit that he was surprised when she kissed him back – especially with that much intensity. He'd figured tonight would have taken them at least ten steps back.

Tony had then gotten up from bed and done a sweep of _their _bedroom, living room and kitchen. Ziva had watched as he found nothing in the bedroom. He'd smiled at her as he left the room and headed towards the kitchen. He'd watched her close her eyes as he eased the door shut. Tony then did a quick sweep of the kitchen, figuring that they would have found something in there while doing dishes the night before. He had then moved on to the living room.

Really, he was just brushing over everything – humoring Ziva. There was absolutely no way Mossad could have bugged the apartment without them knowing. They were two highly trained Federal Agents. But, if it would make Ziva feel better, he would do it.

Tony's hand had been feeling up the area just below the radiator when he'd knocked over a lamp. He'd been thankful that it had landed on the carpet and not made too much noise. Hopefully, she was still sleeping. He'd reached to pick it up, when something attached to the base had caught his eye. Tony's heart had stopped for a minute. _That_ did not belong there.

Tony shook his head as he thought about what had happened in the past few hours. Things had really gone downhill. He slowly opened the door and looked in on Ziva.

She looked asleep. Her chest was steadily rising and falling under the covers. He didn't know how he was going to tell her that she'd been right. He mentally slapped himself. Of course, she had been right. She was Ziva. She was his ninja. He was about to enter the room and climb back in bed with her when a light tap hit the front door. He shut the bedroom door. Gibbs was here. He'd want answers. Answers that Tony didn't have.

* * *

Gibbs' first thought when Tony answered the door was that his best Agent looked like absolute hell. His second was that now they'd _have_ to discuss Rule Twelve because Tony's entire movie collection was perfectly lined up below Ziva's TV.

"Hey, Boss." Tony said, absent-mindedly. He opened the door and then walked away, leaving Gibbs to enter and close the door behind him on his own.

"Where is it?" Gibbs asked.

Tony pointed to the small electronic device sitting on the kitchen counter. Gibbs looked at it for a moment, before picking it up and evaluating it in his hand. It was small – very high tech. McGee would tell him just how high tech it was when he arrived. It was half the length of a pen, a thin rectangular cube with a tiny antenna coming out of its side. Flipping it over, Gibbs looked at it's dismembered back. A wire had been cut - assumedly by DiNozzo. The lights were off; Tony had successfully disabled it.

Gibbs set it back on the counter. He wasn't concerned about preserving evidence. Abby wouldn't find any prints on it. Mossad – Eli wasn't stupid. Well, Gibbs chuckled, he was stupid, but not in that way. He turned and looked behind him, suddenly realizing that someone, the most important one, was missing. He turned back to Tony, who had been nervously rubbing his neck as Gibbs surveyed the device.

"Where's Ziva?"

"Sleeping, I hope."

Gibbs raised an eye. He wasn't going to settle for ambiguity tonight.

"You should probably know that I hung up on the director of a foreign intelligence agency tonight," Tony added.

"Oh yeah?" It was his way of pressuring Tony to continue.

"He called out of the blue – chewed Ziva out. Like, tore her to shreds," he emphasized each word of the last sentence. "He told her that he wants her back in Mossad. Said it's where she belongs. Reminded her of what I did to Rivkin. Said he didn't want his daughter sleep – dating someone like that."

Gibbs nodded; not missing the way Tony changed his words half way through the last sentence. He smiled for a second, almost getting lost in the idea of his Agent hanging up on Director _Dah-vid_. He would've liked to be a fly on the wall in Eli's office after _that_.

"She all right?" he asked, suddenly remembering the gravity of what would have had to have taken place for Tony to take the phone and hang up on Eli _Dah-vid_.

"Uh . . ." Tony paused for a second deciding between sugar coating the truth or just outright saying it. "No, not really. It really through her for a loop."

Tony scratched his head and then crossed his arms. He was simply waiting for Gibbs to ask more pressing questions. Ones that would make him admit that he was breaking Rule Twelve. He leaned against the counter and watched as Gibbs did the same. The two men starred at each other for a while.

Finally, Gibbs decided to break the silence. "Should we have this conversation now?" he asked.

"It _is_ blatantly obvious, I guess."

"A year ago, you would've tried to feed me some completely unbelievable lie."

"That was a year ago," Tony responded.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. When had DiNozzo grown up on him? "How long?" He asked.

"That's a sordid question," Tony said. He wasn't trying to avoid it. It simply was the truth.

"When did things start to change?"

"Mid October. But, it's not what you think. Well, it is, now. But it wasn't for a while."

"I don't really care what it was or is, DiNozzo. But, let's get two things straight. I don't want it ever in the office. And don't be an idiot like you usually are. She deserves better than that."

"No worries, Boss."

Tony smiled, slightly. He had just gotten Gibbs' approval. Of course, it came with a warning, but didn't everything?

Just after that there was a knock on the door and Gibbs went to let McGee in. Tony wasn't sure what McGee was going to do – what any of them were going to do really. He knew why he had called Gibbs. He'd been in a panic and that was whom he called. But, where did they go from here?

He took this break in the action to go check on Ziva. Gibbs would update McGee and tell him what was going on.

Tony ducked down the hallway and slipped into the bedroom. Ziva was on her side facing the door. Her eyes met his as he entered the room and the realization that she was awake brought him out of the haze that he had entered.

"Hey," he whispered, closing the door behind him. "I thought you were asleep."

"Why is Gibbs here?" she asked. She sat up in bed and looked at him with the widest, most frightened eyes that he had ever seen.

"I called him."

She looked at him, full well knowing why he had called their boss and what that meant. "I was right, wasn't I?"

He nodded and then came and sat down next to her on the bed. He put an arm around her shoulder and tipped her into his embrace. "I'm sorry for thinking you were crazy."

"It's fine. You don't know them as well as I do. They classify me as rogue."

Rogue. He didn't like that word. Ari Haswari was rogue. Michael Rivkin was rogue. It didn't end well for either of them. Ziva was not rogue.

"We'll figure it out," he promised. He kissed her cheek and squeezed her shoulder for good measure.

"I should come out and help."

"You don't have to. Just hang out in here. Turn the TV on." He tried to make his voice sound light.

"I don't want them to think – " She shook her head and began to get up.

"Zi, it's just Gibbs and McGee, they don't think anything. You had a rough night."

"You will not leave without me?" she asked.

"Course not."

"I'll come back in a bit," he said, getting up from the bed.

She nodded and watched him move towards the door. She didn't like this new feeling. She felt hollow as he moved away from her. It was like he was leaving her to fend for herself. She knew he was really going to fight for her. But, it didn't feel like that.

"Tony," she added as he moved out the door. He looked towards her. "Please, do not call Rachel." She looked at him pleadingly for a second.

"I won't."

* * *

McGee, Gibbs and Tony spent the rest of the night doing a full sweep of the apartment. They wanted to make sure that there wasn't another bug that Tony had missed.

Ziva had eventually joined them. She couldn't stand feeling so useless. She'd gotten dressed, cleaned herself up and helped them go through the rest of her apartment. It was close to four in the morning by the time they had finished. Gibbs told them to come in late the next morning and then he and McGee had slipped out, equipment and some of Ziva's furniture in tow. This left Tony and Ziva sitting at the kitchen table staring at each other.

"What now?" Ziva asked.

"Sleep?" Tony offered.

"You know what I mean . . ." She needed him to be serious right now. She needed top notch Tony. The one who was somehow inside her head.

"I don't know," he grew serious. "I mean, personally, I probably just caused an international incident." He tried to make her smile, but it didn't work. "I guess you have to decide how you want to proceed."

She traced the top of the empty mug that sat in front of her. "I don't know." She said. "Part of me wants to pretend that this never happened. The other part of me wants to call him back and . . . "

"Yell at him?"

"Yes, but, that did not go well last time."

"I'll yell at him, if you want." Tony would jump at the chance to give Eli a piece of his mind.

She smiled at his offer. "Earlier was plenty. Thank you. But, I cannot control what you do when you are alone . . ."

"I see how it is." _Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge. Bob's you're uncle_. He'd done things like that for her before.

"We can't make him too angry, you know. There is nothing tying me to this country. I'm still in this strange in between phase." She looked down at the table as she said the last statement. Why was it that every time someone tried to say something that made them uncomfortable they felt the need to look away from the other person? Ziva had never understood that involuntary reflex.

She couldn't imagine having to leave. Eli had an unlimited supply of connections. He could get her sent her back to Israel in a heartbeat. It would only take his order. What would happen then? Tony wouldn't go with her. He wouldn't be able to – nor would she expect him to. She'd be part of Mossad again. Her father would give her some impossible assignment. He'd say that it would be the only way to gain back his trust – the only way to prove her loyalty. She'd have to accept. Then, she'd be dead. She'd be dead and all the possibilities that she'd once believed were hers and Tony's would evaporate into thin air.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, taking her hand off the top of the mug.

"Don't make promises that you can't keep."

"I'm not," he said, "I can keep that one."

She took a deep breath and then nodded. This was some type of cruel emotional rollercoaster ride. She could look at it from so many different points of view. One the one hand, Tony was amazing. If they could make it through this, then they could make it through anything. It was comforting to think that maybe this would be the most challenging time of _their_ life and that things could only go up from here. On the other hand, she was on the verge of the losing everything and everyone. Not to mention, it was quite presumptuous of her to so easily think that she and Tony had such a long future together.

"Can we do something for me?" He asked, breaking the silence.

"Of course."

"Let's go to bed." He rose from the table and took her hand with him. He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her. They stood there for a moment and Tony silently wondered if this was the famous _calm before the storm_. He wondered if this past weekend had been the exposition of the movie, the part where everyone is happy - the part where things seemed to be going in your favor. He wondered if this was when everything turned for the worst.

"Come on," he said. He let go of her and threw his arm around her shoulder.

They silently walked down the small hallway to the bedroom, making sure never to let go of each other. They separated only when forced to. Ziva wasn't ready to get changed in the same room as him quite yet. A few minutes later, they were climbing into bed and turning off the light. Tony made sure that the window shades were all the way down. The sun would be up in just a few hours.

* * *

Rachel sat in Tony's chair Tuesday morning, swiveling back and forth. She had arrived more than early for her firearms proficiency test and had decided to go see Tony and Ziva. She had been taken by surprise to find the bullpen completely empty. Nonetheless, she took a seat in Tony's chair and waited for them to appear. They had to be here somewhere. It was nearly half passed eight.

As she waited, Rachel's mind drifted toward Tyler. She'd really enjoyed her dinner with him. He was easy to talk to and he always knew how to lighten her mood. It was why they had gotten along so well in the brief time they'd worked together. Things would have been more complicated if she still work at the Agency. She didn't, though. So, there was no reason that she couldn't pursue a _friendship_ of sorts with him.

Her daydream was cut short when McGee entered the bullpen. He gave her a small wave and said _hello_ before slouching into his chair. She supposed that he just wasn't a 'morning person'. Still, he looked remarkably tired.

"So, Rachel," he asked a few moments later, trying to make conversation. He needed her out of the bullpen before he accidently told her something about last night. "Don't you have a polygraph this morning?"

"It's not until nine-thirty," she stated. "I was going to say _hi_ to everyone before I left for it." She paused for a second before continuing. "Where _is_ everyone?

"They're…uh…working."

"Oh."

"Mhmm." McGee looked back down at his keyboard and continue typing. He was only checking emails. It wasn't like he could do anything important with Rachel sitting just feet away from him.

"Are they in Abby's lab?" Rachel asked after another few moments of silence. If McGee wasn't going to talk to her, she'd find someone who would.

"Uh . . . no." He looked at her for a moment before looking back towards his screen again. Which rule said _always be specific when you lie_? He definitely wasn't following _that_ right now.

"You know I was cleared, right?" Rachel was beginning to think that McGee was hiding something from her – something like, Tony and Ziva's whereabouts.

McGee turned his chair to face her. He would be frank. He would be frank even though Tony and, more importantly, Ziva, had told him not to be. Rachel was a member of the team and McGee knew that from here, from this low point, things were only going to get worse. It would be best to just tell her exactly what was going on.

The universe, though, must have wanted to spare him from his partners' combined wrath, because, just when McGee was about to tell Rachel just where Tony and Ziva were, Abby came rushing in.

She was flustered – characteristic of her in any situation that threatened her team. She carried her newest electronic addition – the tablet – in one hand, and a larger than normal CafPow in the other. McGee ran his hand across his neck, attempting to signal Abby to stop before saying anything in front of Rachel but that, of course, failed.

"McGee!" She exclaimed, coming to a stop just at the edge of his desk. Her mouth began to move a mile a minute. "I don't know much. That's to be expected, of course. They're Mossad. I do know one thing, though, there were at least two people who were in Ziva's apartment _and _security footage in her building is blank from last Saturday night."

McGee closed his eyes for a second. Classic Abby. Sometimes he wondered, really wondered, about her. Taking a deep breath, he opened an eye and pointed a lazy finger in Rachel's direction. He hadn't planned on giving Rachel _that_ much information. Come to think of it, he didn't know _what_ he had planned on telling her.

Abby's eyes widened and she turned to look at Rachel who had risen from her chair and was now standing with her hands on hips and her mouth parted just a bit.

"I didn't see her here," Abby offered, sounding like a small child who had just been caught playing with paint on a white carpet.

"What do you mean Mossad broke into Ziva's apartment?" She asked.

McGee sighed – now he really was going to get the wrath.


	11. Chapter 11

**This one is kind of short but I think it works better that way. **

**: )**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

Tony felt like he was being torn in two very separate directions – though, in reality, he was resting comfortably on the edge of his desk.

On the left, the team had a new case, and an interesting one at that. It seemed that a foreign intelligence agency was somehow able to plant a bug in the apartment of two highly trained federal agents. One of whom is related to the director of said intelligence agency.

Crazy, right?

On the right, Tony's girlfriend, the one who's had a pretty bad six months, got chewed out by her estranged father last night. You know, the person responsible for those god-awful six months. Then, just after that, she found out that he was spying on her and wants her to return to her country of origin. It was only six _thousand_ miles away.

Even crazier.

Part of him was dying to play Special Agent. Part of him needed to play boyfriend. He settled on some strange and completely unprofessional cross of the two. His normal self?

He tried to snap himself back into the real world – his life did, however, seem to be more cinematic these days. He looked towards Ziva. She was only a foot or so away from him, leaning on her own desk, pretending to listen to McGee's rant on how that little device had been sending every sound of their apartment to whoever was listening. To Eli _Dah-vid_.

She had on that face. The one that you could shrug off and say _well, hey, she only got four hours of sleep last night_ but that really signaled that she was once again broken down – and almost beyond repair. Not quite though. He would give himself and the rest of the team and Rachel, who was part of the _rest of the team_ now, more credit than that. _We can rebuild her. We have the technology_. She seriously belonged in _The Six Million Dollar Man_.

He was getting distracted again. He caught Gibbs eyeing them both up and down. He had to focus. Gibbs would only let them stay if he thought that at least one of them was semi-functional.

"So, Probie," Tony asked, he was too tired to try and be convincing enough to pull out a _McNickname_ so, he settled on the old standby, "Are you saying there is local, active surveillance going on or is this just being fed to Tel Aviv?"

"I can't really tell." he admitted, poor old Timmy knew he was letting a number of people down with that statement, "It's hard to trace but, my guess is that it's a direct line to Israel. That's my guess, anyway."

"_Gut_," Gibbs corrected, speaking for the first time in almost an hour. Evidently, he had taken a break from studying his team. "That's your gut." He sprung out of his chair and cut between Tony and Ziva. He moved so fast that he almost spilt his coffee on Tony. "That's your gut," he repeated, jogging up the stairs, "and it's mine, too."

* * *

Gibbs wasn't interested in being told to wait so he swiftly strode by the Director's secretary. This required immediate attention. He didn't have time to be told that Director Vance was _busy_.

He didn't hear the young woman start to object until he had the door swung open and was halfway inside Leon's office. He didn't really like her. He usually didn't like any of the Director's secretaries. Well, except Cynthia, she wasn't half bad.

He shut the door behind him just as she began her approach. Perhaps, her desk should be in front of the door. Even _that_ probably wouldn't stop him.

He watched the Director put down the file he was reading and then, slowly remove his glasses. He didn't look like he had been expecting Gibbs' arrival. Nor, did he look anymore irritated by him barging into his office than usual. Perhaps, he hadn't spoken to Director _Dah-vid_.

"What can I do for you this morning, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs turned his head at him just a bit. Was this an act? He waited just a moment to see if Leon would confess to knowing anything about what his team was currently investigating. The Director just stared at him. He was simply waiting for Gibbs to drop his latest bomb.

Jethro took a few steps forward and put on his best accusatory tone. "Have you heard from Eli _Dah-vid_ lately?" he asked. He narrowed his eyes. It was the signature Gibbs look. The one that said, _my team is in trouble and I will rip you to shreds if I find out you had anything to with it_.

"Not in regards to you or your team," Vance answered. He stood up, placing his hands firmly on his desk and then leaned forward just a bit. "Why?" he asked, narrowing _his_ eyes. There was just a bit of apprehension and skepticism in his tone.

"A bug was found in Ziva's apartment last night," Gibbs said, he chose not to give Vance the entire story just yet. Though, he had checked. NCIS did not have anything close to a fraternization policy. Not that he completely agreed with that but, this was a special circumstance. _They_ were a special circumstance.

"And you think Mossad is to blame?"

"Who else, Leon?" Gibbs began to raise his voice.

Vance turned towards the windows and peered outside for a moment. He knew Gibbs was right. Unfortunately, Agent Gibbs was usually right.

Once Ziva had sent her resignation letter to Mossad, he had accepted her as an agent on the grounds of her becoming a United States citizen. She had asked him to respect her privacy and refrain from talking about her to Eli. He had, of course, agreed. Vance, however, hadn't realized what a challenge that would be. She came up in _every_ conversation they had, no matter if it was personal or strictly business. Eli and Leon were old friends. They had been since Amsterdam and Leon owed Eli a lot for the success of that mission. But, Ziva was one of his employees and a good one. He had to respect the rules of employee privacy. Eli would have to find another way to find out about his daughter – his only living child. Leon Vance knew that he would. There was no question in that.

Despite how tight-lipped Vance had chosen to be on the Ziva subject, he still had to keep Eli, Mossad and Israel as a working ally and a friendly one at that. Baseless accusations were not the way to accomplish that.

He turned back to Gibbs and stared at him for a moment. Gibbs knew he was trying to see if he was missing something – if he was keeping something from him.

"We can't just go around accusing Mossad of things."

"I'm not accusing _Mossad_," Gibbs said, raising a brow.

"Eli is the Director. They're one in the same."

"McGee will find you some proof, then." Gibbs took another sip of his coffee and moved towards the door.

"But, Gibbs," the Director interrupted, "I will remind Eli and Mossad that surveillance on U.S. soil without U.S. knowledge is not looked highly upon _especially_ when it involves a U.S. federal agent. It may even be illegal."

Gibbs smiled and then turned and exited the office. Leon could pretend that working with him was a pain or, that he didn't like him but, Gibbs knew that that wasn't really the truth. It was far from it.

* * *

She should be nervous. With everything that she had just found out, Rachel should have been nervous as she sat in her polygraph test. The strange thing was, though, she wasn't nervous at all. It was like this whole surveillance thing had given her some type of mission. She now had a purpose. She had a purpose and with that came the strangest sense of calm.

Maybe it was because the focus was off of her. Tony was more concerned about Ziva and Ziva was lost somewhere else in her own headspace. Rachel had decided that she, the little sister, was going to step up and use this to show her worth. Plus, if she could help Ziva get rid of Eli then maybe she could free herself a bit from Eric. It would make her feel strong and powerful, again.

"Please state your full name for the record."

"Rachel Katherine Williams."

"Please state your current age."

"Twenty–two."

"Where did you work before NCIS?"

"The Central Intelligence Agency."

"Did your brother die in Iraq?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever committed a federal crime?"

"No."

"In your opinion, have you ever inhibited the national security of your country?"

"No."

The questions continued in much of the same fashion for the next hour. In her first polygraph, the one she had taken before beginning work for the CIA – while she was still at Georgetown – Rachel had spent the entire test feeling sick. She thought that they were going to interpret some truth she said as a lie. It became her biggest fear. She had dreaded the bi-annual checks. They would make her sick to her stomach.

This had been so different.

After the polygraph, Rachel went straight to the shooting range. She was feeling better than ever. In just a matter of moments she would be in the bullpen, working with her team to help her best friend.

An Agent greeted her in the range and watched as she put her glasses on, checked the magazine, loaded the gun again and then aimed at the target. She was instructed to take a few straight shots – one at the temple, one at the chest and one to wound the assailant, diffuse the threat, but not kill him.

She did each with ease. Rachel then took a couple side shots before they moved onto moving targets.

She had to admit that she was enjoying herself – maybe a little too much. She had always enjoyed spending time in the shooting range. She was in full control. It had always been just her and the target. Shooting was something she was good at. It was something she had been practicing.

She fired the last round out of her gun and then set it down on the table. She took the glasses off and then turned to her inspector. His face showed just a little bit of shock.

"Probationary Agent Williams, you are _quite_ the shot."

"Thanks."

* * *

Tony watched Gibbs enter the Director's office. A break in the action. He turned towards Ziva. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her head was down, aimed towards the floor. It was like she was searching for answers in the carpet. He was losing her. Last night, it had seemed to him like she was surviving, at least. But, now, her head was falling out of the game. He was really going to lose her soon.

"That it, McGee?" he asked.

"Uh… yeah, for now, anyway." Tim said. He put the remote to the TV down and then turned back to Ziva. "I'm really sorry, Ziva."

"Rule number six, McGee," she whispered, "And you are doing all that you can."

He nodded and then mumbled something about Abby's lab. He picked the small bug up and headed out of the bullpen as fast as he could.

And Gibbs thought that it was Tony and Ziva he had to worry about. At this rate, the team would be completely incapacitated before lunch. Hopefully, Rachel would offer something.

Now alone, Tony moved closer to Ziva. He stood in front of her, their bodies almost touching. He would not let her shutdown. They would figure this out together. She looked up at him, let his eyes meet hers and then looked back down. He grabbed her hand and leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "Come on," he said.

He pulled her towards the elevator. She resisted so he tugged on her hand a little harder – still, no movement.

She just didn't have it in her to move. She had done a good job of faking unconsciousness last night. In reality though, she had spent the majority of the four hours that Tony had assumed she'd slept, holding onto him for dear life. Ziva feared that if she closed her eyes, she would wake up and this would all be coming to a dreadful end. Eli would appear and rip Tony from her grasp without warning. It had, more or less, happened before. The only difference was, now, she didn't think she could survive without him.

He turned back to her and gently took her other hand; he laced his fingers through her own and gave her hand a squeeze. It was enough to get her going again. With a small nod, she reluctantly agreed and followed him to the elevator.

Once inside, he let the doors close and slapped an unknown button. Tony waited for the doors to close before hitting the emergency stop button. As the elevator came to a screeching halt, he pulled her into his chest and locked his arms around her shoulders.

"Talk to me," he pleaded.

"What would I say?" she asked, her voice breaking.

He sighed before relinquishing an, "I don't know."

Tony pulled her closer, believing that if he could mold them into one person, no one would ever be able to harm Ziva or take her away from him. For a minute, he wondered if she was uncomfortable with his almost excessive clinginess. He was possibly making her more unsettled than she already was. But, when he loosened his arms and dropped them to just hang around her waist, she snaked her own arms out from against his chest and held onto him. Realizing that she needed his closeness right now, that it was important to her, Tony wrapped one arm around Ziva's shoulders and used the other hand to run up and down her hair.

After a few silent moments, Ziva lifted her head and stared at him. "You must think that I am over reacting," she said.

"Why would I think that?" He asked. Tony used the pads of his thumbs to stop the trickle of black mascara that was slowly beginning to travel down her cheeks from her bloodshot eyes.

"We are not in any imminent physical danger. It's merely our privacy that has been violated."

"Don't do this," he said. He shook his head. "You know that I realize the gravity of what is happening. You know I know that this is much more than a violation of privacy." He cupped her cheeks in both hands. "_I_ know how much this bothers you."

She stared at him for a moment. Sometimes, she just couldn't comprehend how much he understood her. She shouldn't forget that it worked both ways. She knew him better than she knew herself. It was only logical that it was the same for him. Still, it never ceased to amaze her.

"His reach is endless," she said. "I feel like someone could come out of nowhere and in the blink of an eye, I would be on a chartered El Al flight back to Israel."

"That would be kidnapping."

She laughed, another one of those sad, sarcastic sounds. She pulled out from around him and placed her hands on her hips before beginning to pace the small area. "I don't think that would stop him, not to mention I am sure he could somehow get around it."

He put his hand on his forehead and sighed. She was thinking about this too much. "Well, I won't let you out of my sight."

She nodded, seemingly accepting his statement but continued to pace. She muttered to herself in what Tony thought was a mixture of Hebrew and Spanish. She always mixed her languages when she was stressed. He was experiencing another one of those times when he desperately wished that he could hear her thoughts. It would make things so much easier.

Ziva stopped pacing after she reached the elevator door for the fifth time. Tony thought that she was going to flip the emergency switch and get them moving again but, instead, she placed her hand on the stainless steal door and rested her head on the cool metal. She took a few deep breaths before standing up and turning to face him.

"You will not let me out of your sight?" she confirmed.

He shook his head. His _Ziva alarm_ was going off like crazy. He wanted to touch her. He needed to hold her. But, he sensed there was more coming and stayed rooted to his spot a few feet away.

"So we find out exactly who is listening, whether it be my father or some amateur team in a Maryland apartment and then go from there." She was standing straighter now. It was like she had suddenly decided that she wasn't going to let any of this push her around anymore. He hoped she wouldn't stay this way. Don't jump to the wrong conclusions, one of the reasons he _loved_ Ziva was for her strength – her resilience. He just didn't want her to wall herself up again. They'd gotten so far.

"Okay."

"And then maybe, without my knowledge, you will fly to Israel and do who knows what…" The smile that spread across her lips traveled all the way up to her eyes. It was the first time he'd seen her smile like that in more than twenty-four hours.

"Sneaking around _my_ ninja," he sighed, Tony moved from his spot. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder before turning them so that they both faced the doors. "That'll be difficult."

Tony flipped the emergency stop button and set the elevator back in motion. He stole a quick kiss from her lips before the doors opened. He could feel the smile spread again as he did.

* * *

Rachel leaned forward and pressed the _up_ arrow again. Did NCIS make it a habit of not having working elevators? She'd been standing here for a good five minutes. She'd tried to take the door to the stairs that was just feet away but it seemed that her access card hadn't been activated yet. So, she waited.

She leaned against the stainless steel door and pressed her ear to the surface. Was that voices she heard inside? It almost sounded like pacing. She hoped that there wasn't anyone stuck in there. Getting stuck in an elevator was the worst. Aside from…

"Rachel."

Her head whipped around at the sound of her name. It was like she had gotten caught doing something she wasn't supposed to.

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs held the door to the stairwell open with his foot. He leaned on the side of the wall and stared at her for a moment before moving his finger, indicating for her to follow him. She did and they started up the stairs.

"I think…uh…the elevator's broken. I was standing there for a good five minutes and it never came. Should we call someone?" She was babbling.

His face turned to a small smile. "It's not broken." He said.

She paused and pointed back down the stairs, "I could have sworn I heard someone in there…talking, pacing?"

"Probably did."

They came to the top of the stairs and Gibbs opened the door for her. She thought she was missing some part of the conversation. Why didn't Gibbs care that someone was stuck in the elevator? She thought about pressing more but it _was_ her first day on the job and they _did_ have more important matters to deal with. Someone else would have to notice the broken elevator.

"Did you pass everything?" he asked. They turned the corner, which brought them into the squadroom. She followed Gibbs towards the team's empty bullpen.

"I did," she nodded.

"Good." Gibbs walked over to his desk and handed her a stack of files. He pointed to the new desk that sat next to McGee's. The partition that used to sit next to Tim's desk had been moved to accommodate another one. There was even a computer on it. She was really a member of the team now.

"It's a list of known Mossad operatives who have entered the country in the last year. See if you can link any one of them to Ziva's apartment."

Rachel nodded. She opened the file and then turned on her computer. She told herself to stay calm. She didn't need to look overly excited about checking names.

But, she was.

As she began to enter the first name into the computer, the elevator dinged and opened to deposit both Tony and Ziva into the squadroom. They strode over to the bullpen and took their respective seats.

"Probie a real Probie now?" Tony asked.

"Yup." Gibbs answered.

"Congratulations, Rach," Ziva said.  
She looked better than she had when Rachel saw her briefly before her polygraph. Then, she had looked like a statue. There had been no emotion on her face. She had merely stared at a spot on the wall, nodded at the appropriate moments and kept close, very close to Tony. But, now, she had a little bit of life back in her eyes. There was a fight in her again.

"Thanks," Rachel said. And then, confused by their arrival from the elevator, she asked, "How did you guys use the elevator? It was stuck when I tried…"

"Ah . . . Probie," Tony smiled. He got up from his desk and came to lean over hers. "You'll learn that the elevator is the MCRT's favorite conference room. We weren't _stuck_."

Rachel scratched her head and then looked at Ziva. She just smiled and then looked back at her computer. Gibbs hadn't seemed bothered by the conversation…she was really confused now. "I don't get it," she said slowly.

Tony patted her on the back and walked back to his desk. "In time, Probie, in time." He said.

For a few moments, the team worked in silence. Rachel had no idea what Tony, Ziva and Gibbs were doing but they appeared to be doing something. She tried to concentrate on her own work but that proved to be a little challenging. She was worried about Ziva, she was a little nervous – this being her first hour on the job and she was trying really hard not to come unglued. Because this was awesome – she was an NCIS agent. She was an agent. She worked for NCIS. She was no longer one of Eric Williams' employees. No, she was not.

Rachel continued to research the list of names that Gibbs had given her. She checked all of their known alias. Some, _most_, had been in the country more than once. Most had been doing things that were suspicious. None, though, had been doing things that were suspicious in regards to Ziva. _None_.

The phone on Gibbs' desk rang and he picked it up before it rang a second time. Immediately, all six other eyes in the bullpen were on him. The person on the other line didn't get a greeting but, merely, a "yeah?" Rachel watched as he nodded twice and then said "meet us at the car." He hung up the phone and then turned back to his team.

"Gear up. We got a location."

"Boss, we taking Rachel?" Tony asked.

"Get her stuff." Gibbs said before walking out from behind his desk. He moved to leave the team's bullpen but stopped at the corner of Ziva's desk. She had her backpack already on her shoulder and was on her way to following him out. She was practically on his heels. "You stay," he said.

"Gibbs!" she contested.

He looked at her, opened his eyes a little wider as if to ask if she really wanted to go there. She let her bag fall to the ground but stayed standing. She placed her hands on her hips. Evidently, she did want to go there. "I'm fine," she said. "Really."

They stood in silence for a moment. _All of them_. Rachel thought that Gibbs was studying Ziva. He was trying to see whether or not she was lying. Whether she could actually handle this.  
Finally, Gibbs took a deep breath and said, "I really don't want to regret this."

Ziva couldn't hide the smile on her face and almost gleefully picked up her gear and followed him out of the bullpen. She walked a little taller than she had that morning.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs called over his shoulder as Tony began to follow his girlfriend and boss to the elevator, "Williams needs her gun."

"Right!" Tony turned around and ran back to Rachel, who was awkwardly standing alone in the bullpen. "Sorry about that, Rach."

She shrugged her shoulders. She didn't really care right now. He picked a key up off her desk and unlocked the second drawer down on the left. Inside, he pulled out a standard issue federal firearm, a holster, a badge and an NCIS hat. He then turned around and opened the bottom file cabinet. Tony turned back to glance at Rachel. She was mesmerized. He pulled out a black backpack, one that was identical to the one slung over his shoulder. He handed it to her.

"You can thank Ziva later," he said. "She personally packed this for you the other day. It has all the standard stuff in it but other than that its empty because, of course, none of your stuff is in it."

She nodded and then slung it over her shoulder. He then proceeded to hand her the gun, which he had placed in the holster for her. Tony clipped the badge to her waist and threw the hat on her head.

He patted her on the shoulder. "Now, you're really one of us!"

* * *

It was probably the rush and the adrenaline of the situation but Ziva swore that the gun sounded just a little bit louder as she clicked it out of her holster. She didn't know why she bothered to even take it out. It wasn't like she was going to get any action, anyway. In the elevator, while they were alone, Gibbs had told her that she was only allowed to come with them if she promised to do two things. One: take a back seat and, two: not shoot anyone.

She had scoffed at his comment. He'd then stared at her, one of those piercing glares. She relented.

So, here she stood, behind McGee, who was behind Tony. She was third in line. _Third_. It was almost an insult. Behind _McGee_! Almost. Gibbs _had_ seen her condition the night before. She supposed that he had reason to worry after that. But, she was fine now.

Fine.

The team waited for Tony to kick in the door. That was usually her job – it was her favorite part. Abby had traced the signal of the bug to a room at the Americana Hotel in Arlington, Va. It seemed that the feed _wasn't_ going straight to Eli. She was curious what amateur team they would find behind the door.

Tony's foot made contact with the door and all of sudden they were on the move. Ziva followed McGee into the room, her hand held the gun just a little tighter than usual.

Only it wasn't a Mossad team that greeted her when she finally got a look at the people who had caused her so much unease in the past eighteen hours. Far from it, actually. It wasn't a Mossad team – it wasn't even a team.

Tony had his gun pointed at a man half his size – one wearing thick rimmed glasses and suspenders like she'd only seen in the movies Tony had made her watch from the eighties. He was shaking and his arms were barely able to stand in surrender above his head.

Ziva wanted, more than anything, to run up to him and grab him by the collar. She wanted to invoke so much fear in this man that he would tell her exactly how he had ended up in this situation. She took a ragged breath. It wouldn't take that much. She could see that. She wouldn't want to get near _cruel and unusual punishment _or_ coercion, _for that matter.

Ziva slowly began to step backwards. She couldn't be in here. There were pictures of her on his computer. This _small_ man had been following her? She didn't understand. _Him_? There were too many people in the small room. She took another step backward before ending up in the hallway. Couldn't this problem just go away? She wanted to go back to peaceful life with Tony.

Ziva turned and hastily headed for the stairs. She told herself not to run. There was no need to. But, she couldn't help it. Something felt heavy in her hands. She looked down. She hadn't put her gun back. She tried to slip it into the holster but it fell to the ground. She watched it fall and bounce away from her.

"Ziva, I got it."

Rachel stepped in front of her and picked the weapon off of the ground. She slipped the safety back on before leaning her back against the emergency exit and opening the stairwell to them.

She offered the gun back to Ziva before lowering herself onto a step. She motioned for Ziva to join her.

"I'm fine." Ziva said. She leaned against the side of the wall, ignoring Rachel's invitation.

"Clearly." Rachel wasn't usually this forward. Then, again, she was still high on the badge attached to her hip and the hat on her head.

"We should go back before –"

"They're not going to leave."

"I'm fine, Rachel."

"And like, I know that my opinion means next to nothing right now but, clearly, Ziva, you're not." She turned so that she was no longer facing away from her.

They were at an impasse – neither one of them was willing to give in to the other right now. It was one of their more sister-like moments. Accepting help from your little sister is not easy and Ziva was no exception to that. The circumstances and everything that surrounded it only made it more complicated.

But, she was so close to breaking. The fewer secrets she and Rachel harbored, the better. But, wasn't that the case with anyone?

"Not here, Rachel," Ziva said, "But, I think we do need to talk."

Rachel nodded and then got up from the step. They certainly did need to talk, that was for sure.

* * *

**A/N: El Al is obviously Israel's airline. I read that, in the past, Mossad has been known to use chartered El Al flights for some of its operations, etc.. I don't know if this still happens. **

**And, also, I'm no tech whiz so, bear with me on the technicalities of a "bug." **

**Please Review! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve  
**

By late Thursday night, the team still had no way to tie Mossad or Eli to _the incident_, as they were now calling it, in Ziva's apartment. They only knew two concrete things. One: security footage on all the doors in Ziva's building had gone out for ten minutes Saturday night and then, miraculously, turned back on. Two: A nerdy twenty-five year old named Evan Keller had been monitoring the audio feed and taking pictures of the target.

They had spent all of Tuesday and most of Wednesday chasing down leads provided by the man that they had apprehended in the hotel. He never really knew what he was talking about.

Evan Keller couldn't even provide enough of a description for a sketch of the "man in black" who had paid him to set up this post. Keller said that he had been given two assignments: monitor the feed starting Saturday night and take pictures of the target. Tony was pleased that he ruined at least part of that. In return for his services, Keller was paid one hundred thousand dollars in advance and promised a quarter of a million once the operation had been completed. Evidently, Mossad was not feeling the current economic crunch like the rest of the world.

An event that stretched from mid-afternoon Tuesday until Wednesday night, Evan Keller's interrogation had been one for the ages. Everyone got his or her chance at him. Well, everyone except Ziva.

Gibbs figured he would try and channel Tony's passion somewhere productive. He let him go in first.

It didn't really work.

He was clearly too personally involved, they all were of course, but Tony was almost unable to control himself. He nearly strangled the guy after Keller told him that he started taking pictures of Ziva nearly two weeks ago.

Gibbs pulled him out after only five minutes. He shook his head. This was precisely why _twelve _existed.  
Jethro spent the next four hours in with Evan Keller. He wanted to know _why_ he had done it. He wanted to know _where_ he was sending the pictures. He wanted to know _who_ his contact was. He wanted to know _everything_ and Keller couldn't really provide _anything_.

Gibbs didn't really blame him. I mean, he did, but the guy seemed so socially inept that it was almost like he was completely oblivious to the strangeness of what he had been doing.

The "man in black" had told Keller how much his _organization_ admired the research work that Keller had done at California's Institute of Technology. He told him that they would be honored to have his assistance in the "protection of foreign asset."

Gibbs huffed. Yeah, that was exactly what Eli thought she was. She was only an asset to him – an asset, not a daughter, not a human being.

After four hours, Gibbs was totally done. He didn't want to hear what Keller had to say anymore. He didn't care that Keller didn't have a contact. He didn't want to hear that he was mailing the pictures to an unmarked P.O. box and he certainly didn't want to hear that Keller, a struggling Graduate student, just needed the money.

McGee went in after him, well, after they left Keller to sit alone for a long time – a really long time. He explained to Keller what the legal ramifications for this kind of indiscretion would be. He stressed that she was a United States Federal Agent and that therefore, this was a federal offense to be served out in federal prison.

It was clear that McGee had scared Evan Keller, a man who would not do well in prison, _shitless_. Still, he insisted that he was telling them everything.

"Clearly," Keller had said, "Student loans would have caused me less stress than this."

Gibbs put Rachel on clean up. He wanted to see if she could do anything in there. He wanted to see if, in a high stress and highly emotional situation, she could still perform. In observation, Gibbs watched her more closely than he watched Keller.

She walked in and hopped on the table. Keller had been forced to wait for Rachel for nearly half a day after McGee left. They wanted him to fester. He looked so easy to break but for some reason he wasn't. She sat down perpendicular to him, her body facing the TV that hung on the wall.

"I've only been on the job for less than twenty-four hours."

"Am I your guinea pig?" he'd asked. His hands were gripping the table. They were causing it to shake.

"Basically."

She jumped off of the table and then, in one swift and startling motion, pushed it in front of the door. Rachel put her hands on her hips and then began to pace.

"In a second," she'd said and then pointed to the camera and the red light that signaled it was on, "that's going to go dark. You see, Special Agent Gibbs, he knows that I have some…_issues_. He wants me to work them out at the beginning."

Rachel stole a glance at the camera. The light was off.

"Most of my issues," she'd continued, "They have to do with two things. Trust and anger. And…I'm pretty _angry_ because I don't _trust_ that you're telling me the truth!"

"It's all I know."

"No contact information?" She stood in front of him and placed her hands on the sides of the chair. She'd hoped that her invasion of his personal space would make him uncomfortable.

"Hey, listen," he'd said, "Isn't it illegal that you've kept me this long? You've only given me water. What is the definition of cruel and unusual punishment?"

"It would actually be habeas corpus." And Rachel was pretty sure that if Lincoln had the right to waive habeas corpus than Gibbs certainly did too.

"All I know is the guy told me to call him Eric – he was my contact."

The name had caught her completely off guard. "Did he have an accent? Was he American? Foreign?"

"I think."

"You think what? Thinking is not good enough, Evan!" She stomped her foot on the ground. "Not when you're going to jail for the rest of your life!"

"Yes, yes he did. He had an accent." He could barely get the words out.

"And how exactly did you contact this _Eric_?"

"I…I…I didn't. He contacted me to ask me to do it and then when I agreed he gave me the instructions. He said he'd contact me again when I was done."

"How did he contact you?"

"Notes – he left them in my office. I'm a teaching assistant at Johns Hopkins University."

"The Whiting School of Engineering, right?"

"And then he skyped me once. It was in the library. I barely saw his face."

"I know."

The team spent the rest of Wednesday and all of Thursday looking for the infamous Eric. Rachel couldn't shake the feeling that it was her father. He and Eli hadn't been as close in the last few years as they had in the past but, nonetheless, she thought that her father wouldn't hesitate in doing Eli any favors. It was how their relationship worked. Yet, Keller said the man had an accent – not that her father couldn't fake one.

At half past ten Thursday night, Gibbs told his team to head home. He watched as they gathered their things. Rachel was on autopilot – she looked like the walking dead. She wasn't used to the late nights and long hours that Tony, McGee and Ziva had all learned to endure. His gaze flickered to Ziva. The soldier version of her was creeping back. She was back to nodding and eagerly scurrying off places. It concerned him but he recognized that it was her only way of functioning. He just hoped it didn't stay once this was all over. And then there was Tony. It was like his eyes had learned to constantly be doing two totally different things. One was constantly trained on Ziva, making sure he didn't miss a thing and the other focused on whatever task he was supposed to be doing at the moment. Gibbs wondered if letting them break his cardinal rule would turn devastating for the whole team. His gut told him it might actually do them some favors.

"Take tomorrow," Gibbs called as the four walked out of the bullpen. "Half day Saturday and maybe we'll be done." He knew that it was wishful thinking.

They all turned back but McGee was the only one brave enough or awake enough to raise an eyebrow.

"Get out of here," Gibbs said.

* * *

Tony was just about to fall asleep when she moved under his arm. He was so close – so close. He opened an eye and was greeted by a full head of black hair. He stayed still as she nestled further into his chest. Tony was pretty sure that if she tried to get any closer to him she'd break a rib. He stopped grumbling for a moment and smiled to himself. Life couldn't be so bad if he were complaining that _Ziva David_ was too close to him. Somewhere under the covers, she shifted her legs. Tony sighed and then moved his arm from around her waist so that he could run his fingers up and down her back.

"I woke you," she stated. It wasn't a question.

"Nope."

"Yes, I did."

"I wasn't asleep, yet."

"Liar. You snored. Twice."

He let out a chuckle and moved his other arm from the sheet to wrap around her. He didn't think he'd ever want to get used to this. She shifted her feet again and he realized that neither of them was going to fall asleep anytime soon. He hadn't gotten a full night's sleep since Sunday, what was another hour? He was still running on adrenaline, anyway. Or, was it love?

"Let's talk," he said.

"Talk?" She turned onto her stomach and propped her head onto her hands.

"Talk."

"About?" She stared at him, her eyes overly eager.

"The fact that the famous Ziva Mossad wall has somehow resurrected itself."

She sighed and collapsed off her hands, letting her head thump onto the mattress. Ziva crossed her arms above head and let the tip of her head rest on her wrists. She was staring at complete and utter blackness. "It hasn't." she whispered.  
Tony turned on his side but he was unable to see her face. It was hidden behind a mane of dark curls. No accident, he assumed. "Zi, you bounced around the kitchen when we got home. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought you were high."

"You do not like me happy?"

"Are you serious?" he asked, a touch of hurt in his voice. Of course he liked her happy but that wasn't what this was about and she hadn't been _happy_, anyways. "Did I not salsa with you in the living room?"

She was silent for a while and Tony thought he'd really blown it. He knew what she was doing, wasn't that enough? Why did he need her to say it out loud? Either that, or she'd fallen asleep. If anything, he hoped it was the latter and not the former. He rubbed his eyes a few times. He was determined not to willingly fall asleep. At least, not until they finished talking. He could sleep all day tomorrow.

"It is easier than facing reality," she whispered, moments later. "I am tired of my life being so difficult. We have figured us out, I just want everything else to figure out."

"It will."

"This has to come to a head sometime."

"It will." He repeated.

"My papers could be revoked. What if Mossad is planning on disposing of me? What if they think that I am a liability? I told you they think I am rogue."

"Can you look at me, please?" His hand had dug through her hair and found her neck. Tony wondered if she could make out the shape that his thumb had taken to caressing.

Slowly, reluctantly, she turned and rested her cheek on her wrist. She looked at him. The fear and shame was back but at least the wall was gone. All of her was right here with him.

Tony moved his hand from her neck to cup her cheek. He leaned down so that his forehead was resting on hers. "Listen to me," he said slowly. "For one, I don't want you to ever worry about papers because I can fix that faster than you can say _no_. I told you that the other night. Ok?"

She nodded. She supposed he had meant to be non-specific but she couldn't help but think he was talking about…marrying her. Under normal circumstances, Ziva would have browbeaten him until he told her what he really meant by that statement. It _was_ the second thing like that which he had said. This, however, was not normal and something about his tone told Ziva that whatever it was he was completely serious about it.

"Now that _that_ is clear," he continued, "You need to stop thinking that we're going to let anyone hurt you or take you away. It is simply _not_ going to happen." He said each word with such force that she had no choice but to believe him. "Gibbs will not lose another daughter and McGuilt would feel awful, let's be serious. Abby would probably never leave her coffin and I think Rachel might actually kill me." He paused and stared at her for a long moment. His emotional drama was about to go chick flick really fast and there was nothing he could do about it. "And as for me," his voice lowered and softened and once again, his thumb moved back and forth on her cheek, "Someone would have to shoot me in the head before I let them get anywhere near you. I meant it, you know. I still do."

Ziva smiled, tears welling in her eyes. She hoped she never got used to hearing those things come out of his mouth. They always made her stomach do somersaults. He had already proven that he would die for her and she knew he wouldn't hesitate in doing something like that again. What could she say in response? "I love you, you know."

"Really?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. He leaned closer and placed his lips on hers. If nothing else, _this_ would dispel all of her fears. He hoped that she could _feel_ all the things that he felt about her.

"That's good," he said, pulling back after a few moments, "because, I love you and it could get awkward if you didn't love me, too."

She huffed and playfully punched him in the gut before rolling back onto her back and settling against his chest. She relaxed to the feeling of his chest rising and falling against her and his fingers playing with her hair. Once upon a time they had their best moments in the elevator. Now, it seemed they happened in bed and that was with the best still yet to come.

"Rachel followed me out of the hotel room the other day."

"I saw."

"She wants to talk. I told her we could. She knows that I am not okay."

"I think that's probably a good idea." He was weighing his options. Right now would be the optimal time to tell Ziva about his clandestine Starbucks meeting with Rachel. He'd always planned on telling her eventually. Rachel would probably tell her when they spoke, anyway. He'd be in big trouble if Ziva found out that way.

"I was thinking of taking her to Shenandoah to go hiking tomorrow. I will, of course, bring my gun. I know I was not going to leave your sight but neither of us has really been out of the city too much lately."

"I have to tell you something."

"You know something I don't know, don't you? You think – you know something is going to happen to me!" She had gone from a perfectly normal, casual conversational tone to one of complete terror.

"No, not at all." He took a deep breath. This shouldn't be so hard. "Its about Rachel. Last week I met her for coffee. It was before her meeting with Vance and Gibbs, I didn't want her blind-sided by anything and I also didn't want her doing anything that would set you back. I saw the look on your face when she showed up on your door and Zi… you have to know, it killed me. I just wanted her to be aware."

"You told her everything." Her voice was flat.

"No! No, not much at all. I just told her the factual turn of events."

"Nothing more?"

"Well…" She was already mad. He didn't know how to get out of it, now. Maybe that whole thing had been a really bad idea.

"Tony."

"I told her that you were still really shaken up from being held captive and that some pretty bad things happened to you. I didn't give her any details or anything."

Ziva was silent. She let Tony suffer for a few moments because she wasn't quite sure how she felt about this. For one, she didn't like that Tony was sneaking around her like she was some invalid. Because she wasn't, she never has been. She never will be. She also wasn't sure she liked that Tony had shared some of her dark secrets. It was Rachel, though and, for some reason, she had trouble being mad at him when he had such genuine motives.

"Ziva, I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Ziva…"

"When you said that it was about Rachel I thought you were going to say that you slept with her, which I would have understood considering –"

"Ziva!" He was more than horrified. Tony certainly didn't want to go down the _it is unreasonable for me to expect you to wait any longer_ road. He couldn't handle that tonight.

"It's fine, Tony," she sighed. "Really. I mean, your heart was in the right place – your head, not so much, but I can only expect so much."

"Thanks," he grumbled.

She flipped over to take another look at him. Resting her chin on his chest, she raised an eyebrow.

"You're pissed." He said. She noticed that he was staring at the ceiling. She was a little surprised, he was really _that_ afraid of hurting her.

"No – well, you said you didn't tell her everything, correct?"

"Bare minimum, at most."

"I assume that you have told Abby and McGee about was has been going on, also."

"No. I mean, McGee was there, remember, but the details, that's no one's business but yours. Abs is more perceptive than you'd think and, believe me, she's asked. I haven't told her anything, though."

"I'm not mad at you. I have had…_trouble_ getting mad at you lately."

His face lit up and for the first time since beginning his confession he dared to make eye contact with her. She really wasn't mad. "It's the charm, isn't it?"

"Perhaps."

Tony watched her snuggle into his chest again. She took a deep breath and then closed her eyes. He wondered what Eli thought when he listened to the tapes of his daughter's apartment. Was he surprised to hear Tony's voice, too? Had he heard her tearful accounts of the hell she'd gone through? Just because the security footage pointed to the tape being put on Saturday didn't mean it hadn't happened before hand. That was Tony's fear, anyway. Did he want to hurl like Tony did or was it simply part of the game? Tony wondered if he wished that he could be the one holding her tight, comforting her. He swore he'd never let his daughter hurt the way her Mom had. He and Ziva would protect their kids until the day they died.

_Slow down, DiNozzo,_ he reminded himself. He was really getting ahead of himself, now. First, saying he'd marry her, now thinking about their kids. Maybe he had some kind of lasting effects from that damn truth serum.

"Tony?"

"Mhmm?"

"You think I'll be okay tomorrow, right?"

"There's no reason to believe you wouldn't be."

"Maybe we should just go to lunch or something."

"You and Rachel both bring your guns, you make sure you stay within cell phone range and you'll be fine. Ziva, if I thought you were in imminent danger of being kidnapped, we'd either be on a deserted island or locked in autopsy."

* * *

Rachel leaned back as Ziva swerved into yet another lane of traffic. She really should have fought harder for the driver's seat. At least they were on a smaller highway, now. Rachel had really feared for her life back on the interstate. She'd driven with Ziva many, many times but this was a whole new experience in itself. Rachel knew that Ziva was just making sure that they weren't being tailed but, still, she was glad she had skipped the coffee this morning. Surely by now it would be on Ziva's dashboard.

Rachel had been more than surprised when she received a text from Ziva at half past five that morning. Surprised because she, of course, had been sound asleep when her phone had vibrated on her nightstand. She had gladly accepted the invitation. For one, it meant that Ziva wanted to talk to her and then, of course, it was reminiscent of the old days when they used to see how far up or down the east coast they could get before having to return to the District. Virginia's National Park had been one of their favorites. It stretched the Appalachian Trail from just northwest of Richmond to an hour west of Washington. There had been days when they would take the charter bus down to the southern most tip and see how far north they could hike before taking another bus back to the city. Today was certainly not one of those days. Ziva had headed due west out of Washington and headed for the Thornton Gap entrance. They were only a little more than an hour and a half from DC, but, with Ziva's driving, they could be back within fifty minutes.

In light of the week's events, Ziva had asked Rachel to bring her gun. She had to admit that climbing up rocks and ridges with a federally registered firearm attached to her hip were new experiences for her – comforting ones, but new ones nonetheless.

The two friends were silent as they climbed their way to the top of the Hazel Mountain Overlook. It was a journey that they had taken countless times before. Rachel followed Ziva up the trail and watched as every few feet, she looked over her shoulder. It took all Rachel had to restrain herself from telling Ziva to snap out of it, they weren't being tailed. But, she understood how stressful this past week had been and remained silent. Well, she remained silent about that.

"Ziva," she said, as they ascended higher up the mountain and the snow became a bit deeper, "You checked the weather, right?"

"There was heat wave last week, it was nearly sixty." She didn't seem fazed in the least by the weather. That freaked Rachel out. It was December. They were in Virginia but, still, it was December. _Crazy desert spy._

"Yeah, but it would just be unfortunate if we died of frost bite." I mean, really, in their profession there were much more impressive ways of dying.

"Are you cold, Rach?"

"It's still like 45."

Rachel decided that the climb was worth her fear of dying when they finally reached the overlook. For miles upon miles, all the eye could see were snow dusted mountains with small specks of green popping their way out every once and a while. She had never been up to the overlook in the winter and Rachel swore they she had never seen a crisper, bluer sky.

Rachel and Ziva took a seat on one of the benches and took in the view for a few moments before either of them drew up the courage to begin the conversation that they both knew they had to have.

"Tony told me about your talk," Ziva began, realizing that they could not sit up here all day.

Rachel turned to look at her and bit her lip, "Are you mad?" she asked.

"No, not at all." Ziva shook her head. "He had the right idea."

Rachel nodded and then sat silent for a moment. The ball was in her court. She just had to decide what she wanted to ask about first. "Who was Michael?" She asked, her voice sounding more like a twelve year old than a twenty-two year old.

Strangely, it was Ziva's supposed boyfriend who interested Rachel more than the months Ziva spent in Africa. She wanted to know about those, too, but she had to start with Michael. She had to know why she had been kept in the dark. She had to know from Ziva.

Ziva ran a few fingers through her hair before taking a deep breath and answering, "He was a Mossad agent that I… dated last year. Turns out there were some other things going on that I did not know about and… I guess… his death was a blessing in disguise."

"Tony said you were engaged or…"

"He had asked me. I never really gave him an answer."

"You would've told me eventually, though, right? I mean you wouldn't have gotten married without me, would you've?" The hurt was evident in her voice and it pained Ziva to have to look into her eyes.

"Something never seemed right. I didn't like bringing you near Mossad."

"But, _you_ were Mossad. Ari was Mossad. I met Ari." Rachel really didn't understand. Ziva was Mossad soon after they met and the few times during Rachel's teenage years that she had actually seen Ziva in person were during Mossad operations. It was how she had been introduced to Ziva's brother.

"And that is mistake that I was determined never to make again."

"Ziva, I'm just so confused. You sounded so … off when we spoke a week after my graduation and then I didn't hear from you for over three months and then, all of sudden, you're back but you were so different. I don't need you to rehash the events, I know you took that guy's place and I know you were the only person to reach the terrorist camp and I know that really, really shitty things happened." Rachel was crying now. She hadn't meant to when she started talking but, now, she couldn't stop. "I just want to know why I was in the dark and I want to know why you really think your Dad is bugging your apartment. I don't want the PG-13 version anymore."

Ziva turned her whole body so that she was facing Rachel; she crossed her legs on the bench and placed her hands on Rachel's knees. "I am sorry, Rachel. I didn't mean for this to hurt you. I kept you in the dark in hopes that I would _not_ hurt you. I lost my first little sister and I was not about to lose my second. But, in regards to my time in Africa, it just has been very hard… trusting people again – especially men." She paused for a moment and took to staring at the view again.

Rachel could see the horrors playing across her memory. Right then, in that moment, what Ziva had gone through was so strikingly real to her.

"And you have … usually gotten the truth in regards to Eli," Ziva nodded her head. "I _did_ resign from Mossad in September because I _did_ want to stay at NCIS and because I no longer trusted him but it was not all because of what happened with Ari. One of my Mossad partners, he killed a Marine onboard the _Damocles_ and then when NCIS found the body – my father tried to implicate me in it. He sent Malachi, the one who had shot him, to burn me and to take me back to Israel where I would probably be forced on yet another suicide mission proving my loyalty to Mossad, Israel and my father."

"And now you're afraid that they will forcibly take you back."

Ziva wiped a stray tear from her eye, "Men like our fathers do not like it when they don't get their ways."

"But, what about the guy? What about Michael?"

"He would not confirm or deny it but, my father implied that Michael had been…courting me under his orders. None of it, I suppose, had been real. It was another moment that I really saw Eli for who he really is. But…. I had had my own suspicions the whole time. Michael was using me to avoid NCIS … I think I knew that none of it was real at the time, too. I just did not want to admit it to myself. _That_ is why you never met him. Believe me, Rachel if I had felt really _right_ about it you would have been the first to know. I, however, did not."

"Promise me that I wont have to go through Tony for anymore information in regards to you?"

"Yes." Ziva nodded, "I promise."

"Don't forget, Ziva," Rachel said, "We're all each other's got left for family. I don't know what I would do without my big sister."

* * *

McGee took a deep breath before descending down the stairs into his boss' basement. It wasn't often that he found himself here. In fact, it was pretty rare. He knew that both Tony and Ziva visited their boss whenever they had something that they needed to discuss with him but that wasn't really McGee's style. It made him slightly uncomfortable. He wondered if the day would ever come when Leroy Jethro Gibbs didn't intimidate the life out of him. Tim doubted it.

Figuring that Gibbs already knew that he was there, he just decided to take the leap and head down the stairs. Gibbs was sitting at a small table set up in the middle of the basement. There was no boat in sight. Tim didn't think he'd ever seen Gibbs' basement with out some sort of a boat in it. He was wielding something. It looked like the leg of a chair. Tim wondered what he was making.

"Don't you have better things to do on your day off than show up in my basement, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh…"

"Doesn't mean you can't."

McGee nodded and then walked over to the table. He stood in front of the stool across from Gibbs, staring at the beginnings of the wood project. Gibbs paused and looked up at him and then back at the stool. McGee sat down.

"This part of a boat?" he asked, trying to make conversation. He didn't even really know why he was there.

"Nope."

"So…"

"Spit it out, Tim."

"I couldn't sleep last night – too much going on. So, I went into work this morning. I was alone in Abby's lab. That bug has been really bothering me. I could have sworn it was a direct feed to someone."

"Eli."

"Yeah, but, its not."

"Fifty-one."

McGee stopped for a moment – he had to connect the number to the rule in his head. Fifty-one – that was the new one. _Sometimes, you're wrong._ Yeah, he was wrong, but that wasn't what had brought him over here. It was what brought him to the office early Friday morning, but not what lead him to Gibbs.

"Anyway, I started digging. I've never seen anything like it. Its not connected to a phone line, which is what makes it so unique. It's purely wireless. It records what it hears and then sends it off."

"McGee, did you come all the way over here from the Navy Yard to explain to me how that thing works?"

"No." He paused again. He could say this out loud. "It had been there awhile and I was finally able to extract some things from it. There's at least a weeks worth of audio on there, but I think it was there longer. I think it self-deletes. Which gives us another question. If the security footage points to someone in Ziva's apartment building Saturday but the bug has been there longer, why were they there Saturday and why can't we find anything saying they were there earlier?" He took a deep breath and rubbed his face. "Anyway, there is a lot and I mean a lot, of audio."

"What'd you hear?" So that was why McGee was here, Gibbs surmised. He had heard something he really didn't like.

"She – a lot happened over there. She's not better."

"She's getting there." Gibbs didn't look up from his finely sanded piece of wood and McGee wondered if he was the last person to be invited onto the boat. It seemed like he was the only one who wasn't in on this.

"But, to hear her tell… "

"DiNozzo."

"Its just all the details. I knew but…. hearing them is awful and when she panics..."

"Whole thing is awful. So, Eli heard everything?"

"Anything that was said in the kitchen or the living room."

Gibbs nodded and then the two of them sat in silence again. McGee should have expected to hear such things but it seemed so long ago that his hands were zip tied behind his back. _Are you all right, McGee?_ He could still hear her voice. He remembered thinking she sounded like his old Yiddish grandmother – if he had had an old Yiddish grandmother. Her voice had been all scratchy and raw and suddenly, this morning in the lab, it had all made sense for him – her voice, the death in her eyes. She'd spent three months screaming. What, did he think that she really just _sat_ for three months? No wonder Tony got annoyed with him.

"Do you think it will bother Eli as much as it bothers us?" McGee asked.

"I don't know anymore."

"Should I tell her?"

"Don't lie to her. She's had enough of that."

"So… Tony is…"

"Looks that way."

McGee let out a quiet, exasperated breath. Gibbs _did_ know. Did he not care? He was reminded why he didn't often show up here. The conversations were borderline painful. He'd come here for answers but that wasn't what he was getting. He sat back on the stool and stared out the window by the stairs. Gibbs must have realized that his Agent wasn't satisfied because he looked up from his wood and took a deep breath.

"Here's the thing, McGee," he said, "You and I both spent the past summer with DiNozzo, we both saw things we'd never seen before. It wasn't the same Tony who'd walk into the office bragging about his previous night's sleeping arrangements. You were in that camp – you were with Saleem. Hell, you practically carried her out. You watched the medics pump her with liquids and antibiotics and all that crap and then they asked you to leave. Right?"

McGee nodded. "I know. I wasn't blind to it. But, the first hand account, its different. Hearing Ziva cry, hearing her panic and get all upset…changes things."

"Yeah, it does. That whole thing changed everything." Gibbs raised an eyebrow asking McGee if it was really necessary for him to continue. Couldn't he draw his own conclusions?

McGee nodded. He could.

* * *

Leon Vance leaned back in his chair as he waited for the phone to be picked up by someone halfway across the world. In international relations, time differences were the bane of many people's existence. He had just tried Eli's direct line and gotten no answer. It was discouraging, but not unlike Eli to screen his calls. After all, Vance screened his calls too. They were very busy men.

Last time he checked, he and his wife were on good terms with David's secretary so, hopefully, she would connect him.

Leon looked at his watch. It was already early evening in Tel Aviv. There was no reason Eli wouldn't be in the office. This was the time that they usually had their conversations.

"Shalom." She answered. Mossad didn't identify whom you were trying to call or whom you were speaking to. If you didn't know, then you had the wrong number. _By way of deception, thou shalt do war. _

"Shalom, Tamar, it's Leon Vance."

"Leon, good to hear from you."

"How's Shira? Kayla has been waiting eagerly for her next letter to arrive."

"She's good, working hard in school as she should. I put it in the mail yesterday."

"She'll be glad to hear it."

"I assume that Jackie would be calling me at my house if the girls were all you wanted to talk about."

"That is true."

"What can I do for you, Director?" She asked, her voice becoming professional and all business.

"Is Director David around? I have some updates on some area movements that he might be interested in. Couldn't catch him on the direct line."

"He is currently unavailable."

"Third time in three days that he's been unavailable, Tamar. Is he only unavailable to me?"

She laughed before saying, "Director, I will pass along your call, but, you should know, he will be occupied for awhile."

"Are you implying he's out of the country?"

"We do not imply anything about the whereabouts of our Director at Mossad. Security is far too valuable. You know that."

"It was nice chatting with you, Tamar."

"Give Jackie my regards."

The line went dead. Director Vance stared at the ceiling for a moment. Gibbs had later told him that Eli and Ziva had shared at heated phone call, which had ended with another one of Gibbs agents, likely DiNozzo, hanging up on him. So, Eli was probably mad. That wasn't anything new. Eli was often angry with his daughter enjoying the United States so much. But, Tamar had definitely implied something. It was a good thing that Jackie was friendly with her. It had certainly been working in his favor thus far. He turned to his computer and logged back on. He enter the U.S. Customs and Immigrations website.

Nothing came up for Eli David.

That didn't mean he wasn't here. Then another idea hit him.

Vance made a quick call to Washington Dulles International Airport. A chartered El Al flight was scheduled to land in three hours.

Leon Vance had found Eli David.

* * *

**A/N: "By deception...war." used to be the Motto of Mossad. Or, at least, that's what Daniel Sylva's _The Kill Artist_ claims..**

**Things are going to get wild next chapter. I'd love to hear what you'd like to see because I am going back and forth on a couple different angles that I have written.**

**Please, please, please, tell me what you think.**

**: )**


	13. Chapter 13

**Longest chapter yet!**

**A/N: I just want to say that I know everyone has their own interpretation of what an Eli/Gibbs clash, or an Eli/Ziva clash, or an Eli/Tony clash would look like, had they happened in early/mid season 7. This is just my interpretation of what could have happened. So...yeah.**

** Here goes. **

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

It was half past four, and almost dark in the city by the time Ziva reached her apartment. Something seemed easier now that everything between she and Rachel was clear. She hadn't truly realized how much Rachel valued their relationship – she knew how much it meant to her, but she had figured that she was replaceable to Rachel. Evidently, she was wrong. Ziva was determined never to hide anything from her again.

She was glad they had taken the hike. It proved to her that there wasn't someone lurking around every corner and, not to mention, the view had been spectacular. They'd only realized how cold they really were when they reached the car. When Ziva dropped her off, Rachel said she planned on taking a ridiculously hot shower. She joked that Ziva would be in big trouble if she had frost bite on her toes.

"Tony?" She asked as she closed the apartment door behind her. There came no response and no sound of any movement. Was he not here? She moved further into the house. A crowd roared in the living room and his whereabouts clicked. She figured he had spent his day watching sports – not nearly as productive as she had been.

She found Tony sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep. She remembered that it wasn't as if he had gotten much sleep this past week. It was probably good for him. For a moment, Ziva marveled at how relaxed he looked. There was no sign of a care in the world on his face. She had to admit, he was _quite_ handsome. Her eyes watched as his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Ziva picked the throw blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over her sleeping partner.

Determined not to bother him, Ziva slipped off her sneakers and padded down the hallway to take a shower. It was incredible how sweaty one could get while hiking in the snow.

A few minutes later, she was wrapped in her bathrobe, drying her hair in front of the sink. For a while, she had all but forgotten how terrible this week had been. Between leaving Shenandoah and taking a shower, she hadn't thought of Eli once. That _had_ to be progress. She knew that both Gibbs and Tony were well aware of the wall that she had rebuilt, but they didn't understand that it was a different kind of wall. This wall was not meant to keep them out but, rather, people who didn't care about her like they did – people like Eli. She didn't want to let him bother her anymore. Ziva's time for happiness had come and she was determined to grab it and never let it go.

"Hey, Zi?" His voice over the hairdryer caused her to jump. She hadn't thought that the shower was loud enough to wake him up and for a fraction of second she hadn't been able to identify the male voice. She clicked the machine off and set it down on the counter.

"You are awake." She observed as she ran a brush through her hair. She heard him lean against the door. He sighed.

"Yeah. _McAlarmClock_ woke me up. Anyway, I guess Abby called saying she thought we needed to initiate Rach into the team by taking her to the bar tonight and, you know Timmy, he can't say no to Abby. So…"

"We are going out."

"Looks that way," he banged his head on the door a few times, "Ugh, and I just wanted to stay in and – tonight." He had mumbled something that sounded like _cuddle_ and she cocked her head to the side. He wanted to stay in and _cuddle_? He'd turned so sappy since they'd started dating – whenever that had been. She kind of liked it – today, anyway. _Cuddle?_

"What did you say?" It was a good thing that she was behind a closed door, because the smile that spread across her lips and up to her eyes was bright enough to blind someone with even the best sunglasses.

"Nothing." He muttered.

"Mhmm."

He didn't say anything for a minute or so, but she didn't hear him walk away, either. Truth be told, part of her would have loved to have stayed home and spent the evening _cuddling_ with him too. But, a night out with the team would be fun. They hadn't all gone out together in some time.

"Can I come in?" He was practically whining.

"Not unless you tell me what you said." She realized that she was probably having a little too much fun with this.

"Don't pretend you didn't hear me, Ninja."

She placed her hands on the sink and looked around. She had finished her hair, put on her make-up and lathered lotion on her legs longer than anyone would consider necessary. There was nothing left to do in here. She just wished that she had brought _some_ type of clothing into the bathroom. Ziva took a deep breath and then gathered herself. Come on, they were living together. She could walk around him in a bathrobe – as long as he didn't look at her the way he did the last time he saw her with just the silk garment covering herself. She could do it.

Ziva's hand reached for the door and she opened it faster than she realized she would, because, suddenly, without warning, she was bumping into his chest.

"Hey there, Sweetcheeks." He held himself up with his hands on the doorframe. Evidently, that nap had been _really_ good for him. He was flashing his famous thousand-watt smile and she could barely resist that tone of his voice.

"Can you move, please? I need to get dressed so we can go out."

"I don't get a kiss or even a hug, first?" He wasn't planning on moving so he hoped she'd give in.

"You are needy."

"Yeah, but –" He pushed himself off of the door and ran his fingers up and down her arms before taking up residence on her shoulders. He messaged her shoulder muscles – he was pretty sure that she was storing all of the tension and stress from the past week there.

"You did look awfully cute while sleeping on the couch…"

He huffed. "Surprised you didn't try to do something to me."

"I would not." She shook her head. "Certainly not after all that you have –"

"Hey," he cut her off with a finger to her lips. "Enough," he whispered. He bent down and cupped her face in his right hand as his left hand messaged the area of her neck just below her hairline. His lips touched her own and for the second time that day, Ziva forgot just how bad this week had been. Because, no week could possibly be _that_ bad if it ended this way.

Tony's hand left the back of her neck as he braced himself on the door frame and without even thinking, Ziva turned and moved backwards so that her back was against the wall. All she knew was that she _really_ liked the combination of his tongue running wild through her mouth and his fingers gently rubbing the back of her neck. She let her arms cross behind his head and pulled him closer.

* * *

He would give Dulles one thing: they certainly didn't let just _anyone_ walk out onto their tarmac. That had to be a plus – except, he hadn't had a half hour to spend with low ranking TSA officers. Was it _that_ hard to find a supervisor or read his credentials? He _was_ the Director of a federal law enforcement agency.

Leon should have known it would take him a long time to be cleared onto the tarmac. He should have left earlier. By the time he was outside, he nearly ran to the private El Al jet. Hopefully, Eli had just arrived. Hopefully, he could catch him. Vance really didn't need family drama to turn into an international incident. And with DiNozzo involved, there was no telling that it wouldn't. Why hadn't he implemented a fraternization policy yet?

The stairway was down and he jogged up it, only to be greeted by an empty plane. Well, that is, except for a stewardess. She glared at him suspiciously, causing Leon to flash his badge and dismiss her glances. Where had Eli David run off to? He sighed before heading down the stairs and back towards the door he had previously come out of.

It was probably time to warn Gibbs. He would be furious that he had kept it from him this long. It wasn't like Leon had any good reason to, anyway. Well, he had hoped that he'd be able to steer Eli back to Tel Aviv. That had been the problem to begin with.

He was pulling out his phone to call Gibbs, when his home number popped up on the screen. Gibbs could wait. He would tell Jackie that he was going to be late for dinner, first.

"Hi, honey."

"Leon, I'm glad you answered." He flinched. That was one of her angry tones. She was only pretending to be nice. She seemed aggravated – very aggravated. What had Kayla done, now? Even worse, had Jared finally broken a window?

"Listen, I'm sorry but, I'm going to be late for dinner. Something's come up. Everything okay with the kids?"

"Something _has_ come up," she agreed, "It must have, in order to explain the presence of the Director of Mossad in my living room."

"Damnit, Eli." He muttered, "I'm on my way."

"Mhmm," was all she had for a response.

Now, he was really running. The next thing Leon Vance knew, he was in his car and pulling out of the airport. Leave it to Eli David to show up at his house.

By the time he had relaxed enough to call Gibbs, he was doing just above the speed limit on the highway. He had gotten into one almost altercation with TSA, he didn't need a local LEO pulling him over for speeding. Of course, if that were to happen, he could say that he was attending to a matter of national security, but that would be pushing it. Wouldn't it?

He opened his phone, again, and successfully dialed Special Agent Gibbs. This was going to be an interesting conversation. Vance knew that Gibbs had given his team the day off today – he'd probably regret that. One thing Gibbs liked was having his team right under his watchful eye during a time of crisis or high stress.

"Gibbs."

"Gibbs," Vance paused before continuing, "I have a situation you may want to know about."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Jackie just called. Eli David is sitting in my living room."

"Bastard." Gibbs muttered. It caused Leon to chuckle just a bit.

"Well, yeah. I'll go figure out what he wants exactly. Figured you might want to warn _our_ David."

"Yeah, I'll do that." And the line went dead.

Classic Gibbs.

* * *

Tony and Ziva were literally walking out the front door when Ziva's cell phone rang. Ziva's foot might have even been on the threshold. They were already almost a half hour behind schedule – thanks to their doorframe _activities_. Lucky for them, it was doubtful that McGee or Abby was disheartened by the extra alone time – even if that included Rachel. It was simply more time for them to discuss Ziva and Tony – something they really loved to do.

She waited until they were in the hallway to answer. Ziva didn't look at the caller I.D. She figured it was Rachel asking for a ride – the girl had always been notoriously late herself. She probably didn't want to be driving home tonight – a good decision after the last time they went out. She was a total lightweight, as Tony would say. In all honesty, she was so high off of her morning hike and her pre-bar make-out session with Tony that anything besides that wasn't even in her mind. Not even remotely.

"Hello."

"Ziver."

"Gibbs." Her stomach plummeted to the basement of her building in less than a second. She couldn't hide the terror in her voice and it caused Tony to stop locking the door and turn to face her.

"Your father is at the Director's house."

A long moment of silence past before she could even think coherently again. She honestly didn't think he would come. Had she been scared that he would? Absolutely. But she never actually thought that he would. It was so very bold of him – no matter what the intention was. That was when the rational side of her clicked off and the panic set in. Her father, the man who had left his only living child to die, the man who had willingly played with her heart in every way he could possibly come up with, was in the country. It was the closest he'd been in months. And now, now he was at the Director's house – only a short distance from her own. A tingly chill ran down her spine. If things hadn't been real before – they certainly were now.

"Ziva?" The combination of Gibbs' voice and Tony's hand on her shoulder snapped her back into reality. She was fine.

"Sorry, Gibbs." She took a deep breath. "Why is he there?"

"Don't know." He said. Gibbs waited for her to respond, but she never did. "Do you want me to come over?"

"I'm fine, Gibbs. Thank you for the warning."

"Ziva – "

"Really."

He sighed before deciding she'd given him no choice. If she insisted on hiding her feelings from him, he would insist on making sure that she was well taken care of. "DiNozzo there?"

"Yes." She admitted quietly.

"Put him on?"

She looked at Tony before handing him the phone. She _could_ have been honest with Gibbs. She could have told him that no, she was _not_ okay and that this scared her more than any dangerous mission she'd ever taken on, but she was just so tired of looking weak and inadequate. She was determined to not let Eli's presence affect her. There was nothing he could do to her. Nothing.

At least, that was what she kept promising herself. She wasn't sure if she believed it.

The only problem was – Gibbs saw through her. She was practically a glass window to him – one that had been finely cleaned and polished. He knew what she was thinking right now. She supposed that that was okay.

"Yeah, Boss." Tony was only a little apprehensive in taking the phone from Ziva. He was still getting used to the whole not hiding this from Gibbs thing.

"She's not fine."

"No, Boss."

"I'll keep an eye on him. You her." Not that his Senior Field Agent needed to be told to do that.

"Okay, Boss." And with that, Tony heard the line go dead. He shut the phone and turned his attention back to Ziva. She was a statue beside him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. He didn't even _want_ to know what was going through her head right now. It couldn't be anything good.

"Now, we _are_ staying here and _cuddling_ all night." She said.

"Absolutely not, though, you know I would _love_ to." He responded. There was no way he was going to let her just sit in a corner and hide, despite how appealing it sounded. "Besides, you'll feel better when you're with everyone, and then a little alcohol…and you won't have a care in the world." He smiled and hoped he could lighten her up just a bit.

She frowned at him. "Alcohol messes with everything. I will not be alert or have any reaction time and –."

His finger to her lips cut her off. It was the second time he'd done that tonight. "I won't drink. You will. Problem solved."

She sighed and he knew, right then and there, that he'd got her. "This is when the _not letting me out of your sight_ really comes into play," she said. Her voice was shaky and far from in any type of control. He had thought that these heart-breaking moments were over.

He was going to kill Eli _Dah-vid_.

"Fear not, Ninja. I got your back."

"At least let me grab my sig…"

"Not a bad idea." He agreed.

Tony unlocked the front door and held it open for her. He then preceded to lock and dead bolt it from the inside (he decided tonight was not a night when he would feel comfortable leaving the door unlocked, even if it was just for a minute and even if he was standing right next to it.) as he waited for Ziva to grab her sig… and the ten thousand other weapons that she would probably carry on her tonight. She'd never use them on her father, he was sure of that. They did, however, make her feel a lot safer. Tony decided to grab his own weapon and clip it to his waist. Evidently, his jacket wasn't coming off in the bar.

It wasn't until he was standing by the door, waiting for her to reappear that reality set in. Eli _Dah-vid_ was here. Anything was possible now. He had to be ready. He began to think of several contingency plans. Eli was going to give her some type of an ultimatum – he was almost positive of that and, depending on the severity of the threat, Tony had to have plans _A_ through _Z_ for keeping _his_ Z safe. There was one thing that he was vehemently sure of – she was his and she staying. Screw everyone else.

He took a deep breath and told himself to relax. He really had issues towards Eli. But, it wasn't going to come to anything crazy. Gibbs would _not_ let it escalate that far.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out to find a text from McGee. _Gibbs called. We still on? _He asked.

Tony texted back a reply. _Yes. Z needs it. Are you carrying?_ He flipped the phone shut and then moved towards the bedroom. What was she doing in there?

His phone buzzed again. _Why wouldn't I be?_ Tony huffed. Leave it to Probie to wear his sig to the bar. He probably thought it would help him pick up girls.

_Rachel with you? She should be too._ Tony decided to ignore McGee's rhetorical question. He walked into the bedroom and found Ziva staring at her bed. She had one of her many cases of knives rolled out and it looked like she was unable to decide between the five-inch blade and the six-inch dagger.

"You look like a serial killer."

"I kind of am one."

"Zee-vah!" his voice was completely exasperated.

"I just … I don't know which ones I could need."

He sighed at the sound of her voice. It was so small and confused and desperate. He walked over and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against him. "Let's see. You have one in your waist, already. And one in your shoe. You got your gun," he paused for a second, "Rule nine is more than covered."

She turned slightly so that she could look at him. This was hard for her to say out loud – hard for her to admit to even the person she'd told her deepest, darkest secrets – secrets she swore she'd take to her grave. "I never actually thought he would come."

"Neither did I." He whispered. He brushed his hand across her cheek and leaned his head against her own. He liked the feeling of her cheek against his. "Come on, let's go. It'll be good to be with everyone."

Ziva nodded and took his hand as they walked out of the bedroom and out of the apartment. Tony would have to drive with one hand because she didn't plan on letting go.

* * *

McGee handed Abby another margarita and then passed the club soda that he held in his other hand to Rachel. He had been nursing a beer before Gibbs' call came in, but then quickly switched to a coke. If Eli was in the vicinity, there was no way he, or Rachel, or Tony would be drinking tonight. At least, nothing that was alcoholic – caffeine could do him some good. He sat back down on the bar stool and surveyed the room. To say that the bar was busy would be considered an understatement. McGee put a hand to his side, making sure that his gun was still securely attached to his waist. It was. He wondered if they should have changed locations – gone somewhere quieter, easier to control. Though, any bar would be busy on a Friday night. He wished it were less busy. It wasn't easy to spot suspicious activity in a crowd. _Always watch the watchers._

"Think anyone's Mossad?" he asked Rachel.

She looked around for a moment, taking in every person she could see. There were a few groups who caught her attention. There was the loner who was eyeing women at the bar, a bunch of Congressman getting drunk in the corner, and a man and woman looking too into each other in a booth by the back door. She observed the bartender and then turned back to McGee. "I don't know. Those two in the corner rub me the wrong way but, we're probably paranoid so… And, I do have a thing against public displays of affection."

"Least you ran home and grabbed your gun," Abby offered. She shrugged her shoulders.

"Yeah and hey, who knew, you –," she looked at McGee, "think yours is an accessory."

"I just . . . I thought… considering." He stuttered and couldn't come up with a decent response.

Abby and Rachel laughed together and McGee wondered if he would spend the whole night getting completely roasted and not just about the fact that he hadn't needed to be told to bring his weapon out tonight. Rachel certainly fit well into the team. She was Abby-like in conversation, but Ziva-like in a firefight. That was a combination that only the MCRT could handle.

"Not quite the _Welcome to the Team_ bash I was hoping for," Abby sighed. She took a swig of her drink and then looked at the door, wondering where Tony and Ziva were.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders. "Eh, what are you going to do?" She was just happy that these people cared enough to have a _Welcome to the Team_ bash. It was more than refreshing.

"So, what do you think is going to go down?" Abby asked. She didn't need to specify what she was talking about.

"Tony's going to throw a punch," McGee said, "I can almost guarantee it. Especially with the way things are between him and Ziva now. He would have wanted to before, I mean, we _all_ would but, now, now its like he has the right."

Abby threw her hands on the table and let out an exasperated gasp. "I can't believe you know too!"

McGee gave a cocky smile. "I know more than _anyone_."

"Not possible." Rachel bragged.

"You don't count." Abby said. "I haven't decided, yet, but either you're secretly a David, or Ziva's secretly a Williams. Ninja sisters."

"You know," Rachel said. He voice dropped and her eyes took to watching the bubbles sizzle in her drink. "The last time I saw Eli, he was still the doting father." She looked up at McGee and Abby, shrugging her shoulders. "Maybe it was an act, but he looked so proud of her."

"When was that?" Abby asked.

"Seven or eight years ago. It was right before she joined Mossad. I went with my father on his trip to Tel Aviv and hung out with Ziva for the day."

Abby turned towards McGee. "Does that sound wild or what?"

"Which part?"

"All of it."

"You guys are bad," Rachel laughed, "It was just normal. She was my friend. _Normal_."

"Sure," McGee said.

"Well, I guess normal is different when your father is the head of the CIA. Maybe I don't have a very good point of reference."

The group chatted idly for the next few moments. It was clear the something – Ziva and Eli's impending throw down – was on each of their minds but they tried their hardest to act normal. Rachel told some more stories about she and Ziva when they were younger. Although Abby was fully engrossed and seemed to be taking mental notes, McGee's eyes continued to scan the room and it was like he was unable to focus on the conversation at hand.

He saw them walk into the bar at quarter past seven and, though he is not yet the investigator that Tony and Gibbs are, he could tell just by looking at them, that it was going to be a long night.

Tony's arm was draped around Ziva's shoulder as he held the door open for them. They stood by the door for a minute, scanning the room and looking for their team. Well, Tony scanned, Ziva just looked utterly petrified. McGee could have sworn she was a different person – he would have never thought he would say the words _Ziva_ and _petrified_ in the same sentence and in the off chance that he did, the latter would certainly not be describing the former. It was wrong. Every noise made her jump and every person that made a sidelong glance at her caused her moved just a fraction of an inch closer to her partner, or, boyfriend, or whatever they called each other. McGee wasn't sure. Tony's eyes found McGee's and he nodded a greeting and then nudged Ziva in the direction of the table. She stepped in front of him and McGee noticed the way that Tony stayed very close to her, almost always touching her. He tried to wipe the shock off his face by the time Ziva walked over and took a seat in the last remaining chair at the table. He wasn't sure which shocked him more – their interaction or her current psychological state.

"Nice of you guys to show," Rachel chided. She felt compelled to be the one who was unafraid of the potential awkwardness that could ensue. She didn't feel the need to tiptoe around Ziva. Not after their conversation that morning. And that wasn't what Ziva wanted, anyway – Rachel was fairly sure of that.

"Couldn't find the right suit jacket." Tony said. "You know how it is, Tim, balancing practicality and fashion."

"Yeah. Yeah." McGee said, "I already heard it from Rachel and Abby."

"Tony!" Abby exclaimed, suddenly aware of the fact that he was the only one standing, "Let me get you a chair." She moved to get off her seat, but Tony put his hand slightly in the air, effectively stopping her.

"It's alright, Abs. I like standing." He was pretty sure that his ready stance gave Ziva at least a fraction of a piece of mind so – he was going to stay where he was.

"Alright, then. Ziva, I'm going to get you a drink! What do you want?"

"Thank you Abby but – "

"Just get her something stiff," Tony cut in.

"Will do," she piped, taking off towards the bar, dragging McGee with her by the hand.

"Are _all_ members of _all_ NCIS teams dating each other? Rachel asked, finishing another club soda and raising an eyebrow.

"She's quite a smartass, isn't she?" he asked Ziva. He rubbed a hand across his forehead. She only gave him a nod so he turned back to Rachel. "They're not dating."

"Just like we're not." Ziva added. It was the first time she'd spoken and it caused Tony to turn and beam at her. She threw a coy glance at him and offered him a hint of a smile.

"But I was serious." He added.

She, of course, replied flatly, "As was I." She watched his eyes go wide for a moment. It was half a show and half a display of his insecurities. "You walked into that one."

"Right."

"Okay," Rachel huffed. "I see how it is."

Abby and McGee returned with a straight up martini and Tony made a point to take it and set it right in front of Ziva. She was drinking that and he would see to it. Ziva took a small sip before setting it back on the table. Tony sighed. He really wanted her to just take the edge off, but he wasn't going to force her.

The team spent the rest of night talking and eating in the bar. They ended up ordering a considerable amount of food. As usual, conversation flowed easily and silence rarely fell over the table. McGee made a point to share many of the stories of how, over the years, Tony had tormented the life out of him. He was particularly excited to tell Rachel about the time that Tony made up a fake name and pretended to be a girl, in love with him. He said that he hoped he could turn Rachel into an ally – you know, their desks being so close to each other and all. She promised him that she would do her best. He sighed – not quite the answer he was looking for.

Abby told the story of Jethro's origins. In detail, she described how, all along, she knew that the dog was innocent. It was his eyes. Those eyes weren't those of a killer. She said she was horrified that no one – she proceeded to give each one of them a brief death glance – had believed her and that they all thought she was having trouble following Rule Ten. _Never get personally involved. _She prevailed though.

Tony spent the entire night in the same spot. Occasionally, he would lean forward and rest his arms on the table, letting the side of his elbow brush Ziva's arm. He was impressed. She was involved in the conversation – not as much as she normally would have been but, considering the circumstances and her extreme discomfort, she was functioning extraordinarily well. When he wasn't leaning on the table, he was resting back on his heels, his arms crossed on his chest. Sometimes, he'd see Ziva take a small and shaky breath and so, he'd pretend to be slightly bored or just a little tired and he'd lean on the side of her chair, draping his arm across the back. She'd lean into the chair and he would let his fingers settle of the small of her back. He wasn't going anywhere and neither was she.

It was close to ten when collective yawns and glances towards the door determined that everyone needed to go home.

"This is only part one, Rachel," Abby assured her, "Don't you worry because, next time, we're going to get wild."

"A.K.A. bowling with the nuns." Tony clarified.

"Maybe you'll just have to stay home, Tony." Abby said.

They said their goodbyes and Abby and McGee took off in one direction while Tony, Ziva and Rachel took off in another.

Rachel had walked to the bar. It was only a few blocks from her apartment and she hated losing her parking spot in front of her building. They reached Tony and Ziva's car and the three of them stopped and stared at each other for a minute.

"Are you all right walking alone?" Ziva asked.

"I think I'm pretty prepared – my gun and all."

Ziva nodded. She knew Rachel could take care of herself, but she didn't want to _not_ ask. Rachel _was_ lingering.

"You don't want me sit guard outside your apartment?" Rachel asked, a little pensive.

"I kind of like the idea," Tony piped in.

"As do I," Ziva agreed, "but I do not think it would be healthy to feed my already heightened paranoia."

Rachel nodded and then, as the winter breeze picked up, stuffed her hands in her pockets. "You know where to find me," she said before turning towards the direction of her apartment.

"Thanks, Rach." Ziva said. She watched the girl walk away.

"Night, guys!" she called over her shoulder, flashing a wide smile at her favorite _Dynamic Duo_. "Voyez-vous a demain!"

"That was French, right?" Tony asked.

"I speak a different language when I am in a bad mood, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Rachel pulls a language out when she is happy."

Tony sighed. "I really need to get some Rosetta Stone or something."

* * *

He was pulling off of beltway at his Silver Spring exit, when McGee decided he had no interest in going home. He had taken a nap earlier and slept soundly the night before – it was more rest than he had gotten all week. It was more rest than he had needed and then during dinner, he had consumed at least four cokes. He wouldn't be sleeping again for a long time.

For a minute, he thought about showing up at Abby's, but that wasn't where he wanted to be right now. He just couldn't get the bug out of his head. Eli was here now and, for all Tim knew, he could be waiting for Ziva inside her apartment right now. He had to connect him to the bug. He just had to.

McGee made an aggressive U-turn and headed back onto the highway and back towards the city – the Navy Yard. He grabbed his phone off of the passenger seat and dialed his first contact.

"Abby!"

"McGee?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting into my pajamas – going to bed." She paused. "Why?"

"I need your help. Meet me at work?"

"Anything for you, Timmy." She let out only a small sigh.

A few hours later, Abby and McGee were quite proud of themselves. They'd gone back over the security tapes from the Post Office and determined the identity of man who appeared on them every day, at the same exact time. His name was Daniel Gurien and he was an Israeli – American with duel citizenship and some hefty student loans from George Mason University. Everyday, he would open the P.O. box, take the envelope out, place it in another one and then, mail it somewhere else. Abby was able to zoom the footage in and catch the address on the package.

She and McGee tracked the address to an unlisted house on the Haifa coast. They high-fived and then turned to each other.

"Ziva spent summers in Haifa, didn't she?" Abby asked, a huge smile coming across her face.

McGee nodded, a smile of his own taking over his face. "She needed a house to stay in."

"Call Gibbs!" They said in unison.

* * *

Leon shut the door of his study and then turned back towards Eli. He was glad dinner was over. Jackie, bless her heart, had grinned through a dinner with Eli and, of course, the rest of the family. He supposed that she hadn't known what else to do. Eli _did_ show up at her back door as she had been cooking dinner.

During dinner, Eli had told Kayla and Jared stories of when he and Leon had worked together in Amsterdam. He told them jokes about how awkward their father had been and said he had finally grown into his ears. Leon might have found it nice, had he not known that Eli was about to cause him a whole lot of problems. Eli had even told Kayla how she reminded him of his daughter, Talia. She was innocent and so ready to make the world a better place. He told Jared that he was more like his older daughter. She was stubborn and held fast to her objectives. He said that Jared would make a great Mossad officer. If only he were an Israeli. Leon Vance was sure that his wife had nearly lost it then.

"I assume you didn't come across the world to simply eat dinner with my family." Vance said. He walked over and took a seat behind his desk, arms crossed over his chest.

"I did not."

"Then why are you here?"

"You know full well why I am here. I told you on the phone that that would not be the last time we discussed the subject."

"I know why you're in DC and we'll get to that," Vance assured him, a false smile coming across his face, "but I want to know why you showed up at my house."

"I wanted to talk to an old friend. Get his perspective before I spoke with my daughter."

"Your daughter. My employee. Slight conflict of interest." He was tired of Eli's dance. They were friends – sort of, but this was too much.

"My daughter first. She is always my daughter first." _My flesh and blood. _

"Doesn't mean you get to surveil her apartment. She's been a legal adult for quite some time."

"Leon," Eli David's voice suddenly became very serious and he looked Vance straight in the eye, "She is the only one I have left."

"I realize that."

"Besides, it is not like you can prove that I was the one bugging her apartment."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that, if I were you. I reminded you of how we feel about that, given her position."

"She is young, headstrong! She doesn't know what she is doing." Vance could see that Eli was getting angry now. He'd come here thinking that Leon would be on his side, be his ally, but that wasn't turning out to be the case. And that – that was infuriating.

Vance shook his head and pursed his lips. "That's where I think you're wrong, Eli. She _does_ know what she is doing. She has for as long as I have known her."

"Not long."

"Long enough."

"Ziva belongs in Israel."

"The kidon in shambles without her? Is that what this is about?" Leon raised an eyebrow and sat forward in his chair. _Israel_ was Eli's way of saying Mossad. Was this more professional than it was personal?

"The kidon is functioning quite well." He was furious now. "It has only the best in it. That is not what this is about. I simply wish to have my daughter back. You had _no_ right to take her."

"_Rescue_ her." Leon clarified.

"We were looking for her."

"Not hard enough."

Eli didn't say anything for a moment and that was when it all clicked together for Vance. He had known she was in Saleem's camp. He had to of. Leon had sent him the location of the camp before it had moved, and then again after NCIS received more intelligence from its agents in the field. They'd even confirmed the presence of a woman with them. Had it been clearer?

"You knew, didn't you, Eli?"

"Do not accuse me of abandoning her."

"Then explain to me why we got her, when you _knew_ where she was so much longer. You _knew_ she didn't go down in the Damocles –two Mossad officers returned without her. Why didn't you go after her?"

Eli sighed. "That is not how it works. Mossad does not have the luxury of -"

It was then that Leon Vance's cell phone went off and he was forced to turn and answer it. The caller I.D. told him that it was one of Eli David's favorite people – Gibbs. He'd better have a good reason for interrupting this.

"Vance." He answered.

"McGee has a connection. What do you want to do?"

"Follow protocol." And that was all Gibbs needed to call in his team.

* * *

He was older than she remembered. It had been almost ten years, but still, he looked so tired. Maybe it was the glass in the observation room. She supposed that he _had_ spent the day flying across the Atlantic and it _was_ the middle of the night. Rachel sighed as she watched Eli David fester on the other side of the glass. Part of her wished it were Eric squirming. She wondered how often _he_ was the subject of an interrogation.

Gibbs' phone call had woken her up a little before one in the morning. She had rolled out of bed and thrown on the first thing that seemed office appropriate. He'd picked her up only ten minutes later and got her up to speed about Abby and McGee's findings on the way to the Director's house. McGee was meeting them there, he said, but they weren't calling Tony or Ziva in. Not yet, anyway.

The three of them had encountered resistance at the Director's door from the Mossad officers who were on Eli David's protection detail. They claimed he had diplomatic immunity. Gibbs, being the skirter of the law that he is, had informed them that currently, Eli was traveling as a private citizen, and he was being investigated for something he had done as a private citizen, and, therefore, diplomatic immunity wasn't involved. Anyway, they just wanted to chat with the man. That was all.

Rachel had taken some pride in slamming the back door of the Charger shut and watching as Eli slowly recognized just whom she was. He hadn't said anything but the look on his face held few secrets.

"Coffee?" McGee asked, offering a steaming paper cup to her.

She nodded and took it. "Thanks."

They stood shoulder to shoulder and watched as Eli studied the room he was in and occasionally, stared at the people he knew where behind the glass window.

"So, like, what's the objective here?" She turned towards McGee.

"To be honest," he said, "I don't know. I mean, I guess he violated an American law, you know, her being NCIS and all, but he won't go to trial. I don't think I believe what Gibbs said about diplomatic immunity. I'm sure he has it. I think he just wants to chew him out."

"Works for me," she said.

"Yeah, me too. I want a chance too, though." He remarked. And just like clock work, the door to observation opened and Gibbs beckoned for them to join him in interrogation. They were doing this all together. _All for one. One for all._

Once inside interrogation, Gibbs dropped a file down on the table and then took a seat in front of the Director of Mossad. McGee and Rachel took up posts behind him. McGee to his right, Rachel his left. He opened the file and pulled a picture of the bug out and set it on the table, in front of Eli.

"Seen this, Director _Dah-vid_?" he asked.

"She cannot face me herself?" Eli returned.

Gibbs chuckled and shook his head. It was his famous _you're quite a bastard_ look. Fine, he'd cut to the chase. "Why did you do it?" He asked.

"I have the right to know what my daughter is doing."

"Rachel," Gibbs asked. "You're fresh out of an Ivy. Israel a democracy?"

"Parliamentary Democracy." She confirmed.

"What's their stance on personal privacy, civil rights."

"Well, the _Basic Laws of Israel_ serves as the Constitution and one of those basic laws is the law of Human Dignity and Liberty and _that_ protects a persons' privacy."

"So, this right of privacy isn't news to their Director of Mossad, then?"

"No." She shook her head, avoiding Eli's glance and settling for the back of Gibbs' head.

"In the United States, where _your daughter_ now resides, a man loses his right to know what his daughter is doing when she turns eighteen. I think it's pretty similar in Israel. Isn't Rachel?"

"It is."

"She may reside in the US," Eli began, "But she is still a citizen of Israel and I will do what is in my power to ensure that she returns there."

That was the breaking point, because Gibbs slammed his fists down on the table and jumped out of his chair, successfully knocking it over. He leaned forward and stared at Eli _Dah-vid._ "Did Malachi Ben-Guidon," he enunciated each word in the Mossad officer's name, not hiding his distaste. "Not give you my message?"

Eli let out a cocky chuckle before saying, "Special Agent Gibbs, Ziva will never be _off limits _to me."

"You left her to _die_," he grunted. He shook the man's shoulder before taking a step back and glancing between Rachel and McGee, letting them know that he hadn't completely lost his mind.

"I want to speak with her."

"No!"

"She comes or, I have someone find her. I have someone find her, and ensure that she returns to Israel. It may not be today, or tomorrow, but you cannot keep me here, and I have located her before."

"_Don't_ threaten her." Gibbs picked the chair up but didn't sit down.

"Threats are empty. This is a guarantee."

Gibbs stared at Eli for a moment before giving him a look that Rachel swore could kill. It must have taken all of Gibbs' willpower not to strangle him right then and there. It took most of Rachel's and the majority of McGee's. Gibbs turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, but not before looking at his two agents, telling them to follow.

In the hallway, he ran a hand through his hair before picking up the coffees that both McGee and Rachel had left on the floor. He chugged them both and then turned to his agents.

"Call DiNozzo." He nearly spat. "Give him the reader's digest version and then go escort them over. NCIS car. Take her out of that building like you _know_ that there is someone waiting to ambush you at every corner. We're not taking any chances."

"Got it, Boss." McGee said turning away and heading towards the elevator. Rachel followed after him and they were almost at the elevator when Gibbs called after them.

"Williams! McGee!" They turned. "If you can't handle it, or think you need back-up – now is _not_ the time to try and prove something."

"Understood." Rachel said and they stepped into the elevator.

* * *

Ziva rolled from her back onto her stomach and bawled the pillow up under head. She threw the sheets off so that they lay at her waist.

_"You don't look happy to be staying, Ziva. I am surprised, given what has transpired over the last few days. You should want to never see them again." _

_ "Because Michael loved me, right?" she asked, sarcasm evident in her voice. He had, hours before, confirmed that Michael had pursued her under his orders. _

_ He didn't say anything and turned his eyes back to the road. He watched as the airport faded from view. "Regardless of Michael's feelings, he was one of us. You are one of us." _

_ "I was one of them." _

_ "You weren't. You never would be. Your allegiance was always me and they knew that. They never fully trusted you – nor should they have. It is why he picked DiNozzo." _

She flipped onto her back again and then squirmed onto her side. Her back hit another body and it was enough to begin to wake him but certainly not her.

_ "They gained my allegiance. I did not offer Gibbs a choice. He had to pick Tony. We both knew that." _

_ "Ziva?" he turned and faced her, his eyes seeming colder than she had always remembered. "Did you think you were more than a seat filler to them? Once Sheppard died, they had no reason to keep you. You are Mossad. America, it has…tainted you. They were not, are not, and will never be, your family." _

She turned to her other side and a small moan broke from her lips. Her legs fought with the sheets until they were at the end of the bed. A cool breeze flew across the two sleeping people's bodies. The chill was enough to stir Tony. The erratic movements were enough to make him aware of his surroundings.

_ And maybe he was right because she had to bite her lip and force herself to look out the window. She searched the sky for the plane, but she couldn't find it. It was already high in the sky, soaring back towards DC. A tear slid down her face. Maybe this had all been a mistake. She was in now, though. They were gone and she was back in Mossad. There was no going back. _

Tony drew a hand through her hair and tried to wake her, or just gently sooth her. He wiped a tear as it slid down her face. "Zeeeeee-vaaaaah." He whispered.

She jerked again and ended up on her other side, her back once again to Tony. He sighed and tried to close his eyes but a small whisper from her lips caused his eyes to shoot open. "Come back." She whispered. "Please. Please."

Deciding that this wasn't one of those little nightmares that she would eventually come out of on her own, Tony propped himself up on his elbow and pulled her towards his chest. "Zi, wake up." He said, more loudly now. "Come on, Zi, just a dream. Zi. Zi."

She awoke and then, suddenly, pulled from his arms. Ziva took a deep breath and told herself that he was right – it had been just a dream and things were okay. She was with Tony. It was okay. She wasn't alone. Her heart stopped hammering and she turn towards Tony, successfully burying her face in chest.

He fell back onto his pillow before asking, "You all right?"

"Just a dream," she mumbled into his t-shirt clad chest.

"Yeah?"

"Yes." She promised.

"Do you want to tell me what it was about, babe?"

She lifted her head from his chest and raised an eyebrow at him. "_Cuddling_ and _babe_? Are you feeling okay?"

"You don't like _babe_?" he asked, a small frown forming. "It's a term of endearment."

"I do not see how it is endearing, but as long as you never utter it outside of this house . . . make that both of those words. Then, I guess it is okay"

"I guess I can live with that, _babe_."

She groaned in response and tucked her head down again. She felt him sigh and she knew that he was concerned about her dream. He always was. "It was not that bad, Tony. Just about my father. Go to sleep. I am okay, now."

"You sure?"

She reached under his pillow and found his hand. She laced her fingers through his and then gave him a "Yes."

He kissed her head and then wrapped his other arm around her waist. She wasn't going anywhere. He had his hold on her. He felt her press a kiss to his chest.

He knew she was still awake, but he couldn't keep his eyes open. They were heavy and even though he protested, they drifted shut.

It wasn't another Ziva nightmare that woke him up just moments later, but, rather, his vibrating cell phone on the bedside table. It took him a minute to realize what it was and he took her with him as he rolled onto his back. He reached for the phone and, although his eyes were bleary and he was sure he was still sleeping, he could recognize that last name with two capital letters in it anywhere, in any state. He groaned and then flipped it open.

"Second time today, _McAlarmClock_." He answered.

"I know, Tony, I'm sorry." McGee said, "But, Rachel and I are on our way over,"

"Why?" He was fully awake now and so was Ziva because, of course, with her ninja hearing, she could hear McGee on the phone, too.

"Things have complicated. We're five minutes out. I have a key. Don't open the door." Look at little Timmy getting all authoritative on him. Then it dawned on him. Things must be pretty serious.

"Dead bolt is on," Tony said.

"Good, we have that key, too."

_Good_? Who says _good_ when you tell them they have two locks to go through, instead of just one? This wasn't good. What had happened since they left the bar and why was Rachel in on this and not him? He was the partner – the boyfriend… Maybe that was why. "McGee, what the _hell_ is going on?"

"Eli's in interrogation. You'll have to watch the tape, but he won't stop threatening Ziva and Gibbs has had enough."

"So, its time for the _shot heard round the world_." Rachel chimed in.

"We'll discuss how history references are not cool like movie references later, _Probette numero dos_. What, are you and Rachel coming in like a SWAT team?"

"Pretty much. Two minutes now." McGee pulled a Gibbs then and hung up on him. It was then that he noticed that Ziva was already standing in front of her closet, slipping her shorts off. He stopped. When was the last time he saw Ziva in her underwear? _In her underwear?_ Now was probably _not_ the time to be thinking how attractive her ass was, but he couldn't help himself. And then something fluttered in his stomach because she was comfortable enough to do this in front of him. Did she realize how much progress that was? Just weeks ago, she would have never done that. And then she pulled her jeans up and buttoned them at her waist. Maybe it was the stress of the moment and the rush she was in, or maybe, maybe she was on her way.

He pushed himself off the bed and opened his closet – because, yeah, he had a closet here now. He wanted to intimidate Eli _Dah-vid_ so he pulled out a suit. His favorite one, actually, because, he was going to be on his game.

He stole a glance over his shoulder and watched as she slipped a new shirt over her head. She wasn't wearing her sports bra, anymore. He noticed that and that, _that_ meant that she was _really_ comfortable and that she _really_ trusted him. Maybe she was _really_ on her way.

A minute later, he had finished tying his shoes and her hair was in the tightest ponytail he had ever seen. That _had_ to be painful. He walked over and stood in front of her. He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. He had to make this quick. Any minute now, _McNinjaWannabe_ and Rachel were literally going to bust through the door.

"I don't have to tell you that _I love you_, because you know that. And you also know that, I will be wherever you want me to be when this goes down. Near, far, just shoot me a glance and I'll jump."

"I know," she nodded. "And, I love you, too." She paused then and smiled at him. "Can you stay close unless I say otherwise. Is that okay?" She seemed so unsure of her request – as if it were too much to ask.

"Sounds good, Sweetcheeks. I wont let you out of my sight."

"I thought that was a given." She smiled.

And then, he just decided to kiss her. He kissed her until he heard the door open and Rachel announce that it was _go time_. He broke away then, but not before placing one delicately on her forehead. Words had never been useful to them, anyways.

He followed her out of the bedroom, his hand gently on the small of her back, his gun holstered to the side of his hip. He just wished he could get Kevin Costner out of his head. He didn't need to be quoting _The Bodyguard_ in his head right now. But, true to himself, he was. _I'm af – I'm afraid of not being there._

* * *

**A/N: Rachel says see you tomorrow. (Thanks to LivingandThriving for correcting my incorrect French! And that is why people don't like online translators, my friends.)**

** My Basic Laws of Israel information comes from Wikipedia, as does my diplomatic immunity information. I am under no assumptions that it is even close to 100% correct. Though..it may be. **

**Am I a tease? You thought the Ziva/Eli throw down was going down in this chapter. Next one, I promise. Really. **

**Let me know what you thought, please.**

**-Cara. :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Apologies, Apologies.**

**I encountered quite the writer's block with this one. It was a challenge, _but_ I think I conquered it. Once again, just my interpretation of how things _could_ have gone down mid season 7. **

**Time for another disclaimer: If I owned NCIS Tony and Eli would have had a little chat in Enemies Foreign/Domestic. **

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

Ziva was extremely happy to see Gibbs waiting for them in the evidence garage. She would finally get some answers. In the last half hour, things had gone from tense to just plain _weird_. Because, there was absolutely nothing stranger than the way McGee was currently acting. After taking her out of her apartment like she was the President under attack, and then, showcasing the evasive and offensive driving skills that she hadn't known he had, Ziva was convinced that either, her friend had lost it, or her life was in _grave_ danger. She was really hoping that it was the first option. But after McGee refused to let her out of the car anywhere besides inside the evidence garage, she was leaning towards the second option. Eli didn't seriously order a hit on her, did he? She took a heavy breath as the engine came to a stop.

She successfully pushed Tony out of the car and strode past him and over to Gibbs. He proceeded to hand her a cup of coffee before pulling her into the elevator. Tony, of course, joined them, but McGee and Rachel took off somewhere else. The doors had barely shut before Tony read everyone's mind and shut the lift down. Explanations were in order.

"Well, that was certainly an interesting way to get here." Tony remarked. He stood closest to the elevator buttons, facing Gibbs who had taken to leaning against the rear handrail. Ziva was across from him, her arms had moved up to cross her chest – it was her protective stance.

"Gibbs, what is going on?" Ziva asked.

"Just didn't want to take any chances." He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee.

"With _what_?" she asked. Maybe she didn't know what he was talking about; maybe she just didn't _want_ to know. Either way, Gibbs' ambiguous answer only caused the blood in her veins to move faster. She didn't want to play word games right now.

"Your safety." It was a simple remark, but it was enough to make Ziva go ramrod still and enough to make Tony fed up with his boss. He pushed himself off the wall and moved to stand closer to his partner. He wasn't touching her, but he might as well have been.

"Alright, as much as I'm enjoying this little exchange," Tony began, "It's close to one and I'd really just like to know why I'm not sleeping." Also known as _just tell me if I'm whisking her off to Antarctica, already. _

"Director _Dah-vid_ is threatening to forcefully remove you from the country unless you speak with him." There was nothing vague or obscure about _that_ statement and Tony considered it a _yes, book a flight south_.

"Unless I agree to go back with him." She clarified. Her face had gone from one prepared to fight any great battle thrown at her, to one already prepared to surrender and agree to the conciliation terms.

Gibbs gave little outward reaction to her statement, but his slight tilt of the head told the two other people in the elevator that he agreed with Ziva.

"Well _that_'s not going to happen," Tony scoffed. This type of situation was _exactly_ why he needed his contingency plans. Oh, he hated Eli _so_ much. Mentally, he went through a checklist of things he would need to do in order to make plan _A_ work. If it failed – he had twenty-six others. _A_ to _Z_ for _Z_.

"You don't _have_ to talk to him," Gibbs said, "It's not like you solicited anything from him. He caused all this."

"I want to end this," she said, letting her body slump against the sidewall, "and _talking to him_ may be the only way to do that without killing him. And as appealing as that may sound to some of us," she threw Tony a glance over her shoulder, "that will only cause more problems."

"Whatever you want," Gibbs said, "you're in control."

"He is…?"

"Sitting in interrogation, right now."

She nodded and then took to studying the steam that was currently rising out of the cup in her hand. She had forgotten she was holding it and Ziva was surprised that she hadn't dropped it yet. She took a sip before realizing that it was black and something she would not enjoy.

Talking to Eli was not something she wanted to do. If their phone conversation had been any indication, she probably wasn't going to fare well – so, she'd want Tony with her. But, that would just make her father angrier which would cause his words to be even more hurtful and then things would go downhill from there. An image of Tony strangling him danced through her head. Then they would have bigger problems than a bugged apartment.

Ziva had heard McGee tell Tony that he'd have to watch the tapes from interrogation to fully understand why he and Rachel were about to come in with guns raised. If McGee thought that Tony needed to see that tape, then she did needed to see it, too. If she was going to go in alone – which it looked like was her only option – she wanted to know exactly what she was getting herself into.

"I want to see the tape from earlier." She finally said.

"It's nothing special." Gibbs said. He took another sip of coffee. Over the years, Ziva had learned that that was one of his tells. Evidently, they _were_ something very special.

"Gibbs, as much as I appreciate you trying to protect me from whatever my father said to you," she paused and placed her right hand on her hip, "I need to know what I am getting into."

Ziva watched him ponder her statement before he nodded. She knew that he understanded her reasoning. Her father thought that he had _the upper hand_ right now, and there was nothing Ziva wanted more than to _break it_.

* * *

The stillness and quietness of the squadroom was one of the only things that Tony usually liked about working late. It was such a change from the usual hustle and bustle of NCIS – he always did his best thinking then. Tonight, or this morning, he supposed, it only made him uneasy. It was like those really bad horror movies that he loved so much. Everything is eerily quiet and you are completely unprepared for what is about to come. In the movies, what's to come is usually a crazy person with a knife – tonight, it was something else.

He sat on the corner of Gibbs' desk as he watched McGee set up the footage from interrogation. He had to peer around Ziva to see the screen, but that was okay with him. If she suddenly felt sick due to her father's absolute wretchedness, she would just fall into his lap.

The image came on the screen and she certainly didn't look like she was going to collapse – not that he expected her to, but still, his placement was just another contingency plan. He had a lot of those for a lot of situations. He shook his head slightly. He was loosing it.

She was in her protective stance – her arms tightly folded across her chest, her feet almost a foot a part. They watched as Eli and Gibbs spoke. Tony watched Ziva flinch the first time Eli opened his mouth. _She cannot face me herself? _ There was such a bite to his tone. Nonetheless, she recovered and the footage continued.

He watched Ziva tense again as Eli told Gibbs that he would do what was in his power to ensure that she returned to Israel. Tony huffed. He would do what was in _his_ power to make she never left _this_ country. The video only went downhill from there. One minute Gibbs was across the table, grabbing Eli's shirt, saying that he had left her to _die_ and the next, he was stalking out of the room – seemingly infuriated at the Director of Mossad's guarantee. The screen went dark and all eyes turned to Ziva.

Tony watched as she took a small breath and then turned to face everyone. She let her gaze flicker to him first and he looked for some type of sign in her eyes. He wanted to know what she was thinking. He wanted to know what she was feeling.

Ziva let herself linger in Tony's gaze for a moment longer than what would be considered normal for a professional partnership. It wasn't like everyone in the room didn't know and she felt so safe in his eyes that she just couldn't help it. She couldn't seem to pull herself away.

Again, she asked Gibbs, "He is still up there?"

Her boss nodded, slowly.

"Alone?"

"The Mossad Officers on his protective detail are in the conference room. Rachel is with them and McGee is about to join her." Gibbs turned and looked at McGee – giving him a silent order.

Clearly disappointed, McGee moved out from behind his desk and headed for the conference room. His departure left only Ziva, Tony and Gibbs in the bullpen.

"I will go talk to him," she said.

Gibbs nodded again.

It always amazed Ziva that her boss was able to prompt her into expanding her own thoughts without even opening his mouth. "I think it would be best if I did this alone."

"Are you _sure_?" She wondered if Tony even tried to hide the surprise in his voice.

Ziva sighed and turned to look at her partner. "You will only make him more mad. I will be fine. You and Gibbs will watch from observation and come in if I need…. _help_."

"Let's go, then," Gibbs responded, not giving his Agent the chance to object.

* * *

Gibbs opened the door to the observation room and went in, but instead of following him into the room, Tony followed Ziva down the hall to the door to interrogation. He grabbed her hand before she could place it on the handle.

She flinched at the feeling of his hand on hers and he realized how she was keeping herself together. She was so tightly wound right now. For a second, he wondered if she was going to physically hurt him.

"Ziva," he breathed.

She turned to look at him before saying, "Tony, I know what I am getting myself into."

"I know you do."

"Then –"

"I just wanted a second with you, okay? I just –" he reached up and tucked a stray piece of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear. He shrugged. Tony didn't know what else to say to her. He felt like he was sending her into the lion's den all alone. It was like sitting in the car and listening as she walked into a firefight without any backup. He felt like a bad partner and an even worse boyfriend. Yet, at the same time, he knew that she was right. He knew that he wouldn't be helping her by being in there.

She smiled and let everything around her fall for just a minute. He was so concerned about her and, after the last conversation with her father – he had a right to be. She patted his cheek and let her hand linger for a moment.

Ziva left her hand there long enough for him to do the same and as he brushed his thumb back and forth on her cheek, she let her head fall limp in his palm. For a second, it seemed that only two people inhabited the world

"I have your back, Zi." He said, letting his hand fall away. He didn't want to let her go, but he hoped that this was a means to an end – an end where things were simpler for her – for them.

"I know," she nodded and then forced herself to drop her hand from his face and step in front of him.

* * *

Eli was standing before she was even through the doorway. She had gone over this moment a thousand times in her head, but nothing prepared her for seeing her father for the first time since she returned _home_. He looked _older_. Ziva forced herself to avoid eye contact with him. She wasn't ready for that – not yet, at least.

"Ziva, I am glad you _finally_ decided to speak with me."

She didn't say anything in response. She closed the door behind her and approached the table. She didn't want to sit across from him. That would be way too close. Ziva dragged the chair and set it near the left corner. She was in the corner enough that it made her feel safe, but out far enough that Tony and Gibbs could still see her from behind the window. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that they were just on the other side of the glass. Tony wouldn't let her fall apart alone and Gibbs wouldn't let Eli tear her down. She could do this. They had her back – they always had, always would. Everything was set perfectly. She just had to find that strength inside of her. Lately, it had seemed illusive, but she knew it was there. That inner strength and the strength that she had drawn from her team and her partner, had kept her alive more than once.

"Was this necessary?" she asked. She crossed her legs and sat back in the chair. The closer she was to that window – the better.

"I did not think you would speak to me otherwise." It didn't matter that his assumption was correct.

"I am not talking about the threat or _guarantee_, as you put it," she shook her head and spoke clearly and precisely, "I am no longer under your control, I –"

"Ziva! You are still my daughter." He slammed his fist on the table. "_That_ means something."

"By blood, yes." She said.

He raised his voice and began to yell at her in Hebrew. He asked if she had forgotten the type of power he holds – the things he is able to do. Did she understand that pitting herself against him would not work to her advantage? She shook her head, determined to not let the tone of his voice intimidate her.

"You are fluent in English." She spat. "And that is what you will speak here." Because if he didn't speak English, Gibbs and Tony wouldn't be able to realize when she needed them to pull her out. And that, _that_ was one of her biggest fears.

"What, so Special Agent _Gibbs_ and _Anthony_ can understand what I am saying to you?"

"Yes." She grunted.

"This is a private conversation!" He tried to stand, but someone had cuffed him so tightly to the table that he was only able to elevate off his chair for a fraction of an inch. She had to hide the small smile that it caused – _Rachel_.

"I didn't like the way you talked to me the last time we had a _private_ conversation."

"That is right. You fell apart – you let _him_ take over for you – hang up on me!" His words cut a hole so deep in her. He knew he had hurt her. He knew and he didn't care. Even worse, he begrudged her for it.

"You were out of line – still are." Ziva somehow managed to keep her voice even, though her pulse was racing against her neck and she swore the temperature of the room had risen considerably.

"Ziva, that is what you don't understand!" She could see just how frustrated he was with her. "I am _not_ out of line. _Not_ by telling you the truth. _Not_ by being here."

"Spying on me?" She asked.

"You would not have willingly shared details of your personal life with me." He shrugged, seemingly thinking that his actions were justified.

"That is because it is personal!" She threw her hands up in the air. "Who I associate with does not concern you."

"Everything you do concerns me. You are my daughter – a Mossad officer." He said.

"I am neither." She might have given him some slack if he had stopped with daughter, but he hadn't. He had thrown in that she was Mossad and that just confirmed everything for her. He didn't want his daughter. He wanted his officer. He wanted his assassin back – his perfect little weapon. It hurt her more than she thought he could even begin to understand.

"Once Mossad, always Mossad." She had heard him say that before. It was when he was trying to convince someone to stay with the organization. She did not miss the threat.

"So that is what this is about, huh?" She asked. She was trying to avoid the small amount of water that was beginning to well up in her eyes. She didn't want to cry in front of him – not alone. Ziva took a deep breath and regained some of her strength. "Were you going to frame me again? What part of my letter of resignation did you not understand?"

"Ziva, I am willing to do what it takes to get you to return to Israel."

"Why?" She asked. Ziva just wanted him to admit that it wasn't about losing her as daughter. She just wanted him to admit that it was all about Mossad for him – all about her skills.

"It is where you belong." His words were so forceful that she thought that they might actually have the power to pick her up and transport her across the ocean on their own.

"I belong here."

"Does Special Agent Gibbs know that you did not kill Ari to save his life, but to win his trust?" Eli asked, a small smile coming across his face. It was his last attempt at proving to NCIS that they didn't know or want his daughter – that she had been a traitor to them all along. He wasn't prepared for Ziva's response.

"He does."

"If they did not find you –" Eli began to raise his voice again, but Ziva cut him off.

"I would be dead." She spat.

"We would have found you."

"No. You would not have. You weren't even looking." Her voice cracked on the last sentence and she swore than she was going to lose it right then and there.

"Yes! We were!"

"You couldn't have been. It took them months to even suspect that something was off, and when they did they tracked my movements to the camp. They went for me when they thought I was already dead. You knew where I was all along and you knew I was probably alive – you knew Saleem wanted information. You _knew_ I was suffering." There was a slight shake to her hands as she rose from her chair and held one finger up. "One extraction team!" She shook it at him. "That's all it would have taken."

"Ziva, you know that I do not have that luxury."

"The luxury of caring about your daughter?" She asked. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head at him in disgust. "The only living child you have left."

"It is not that simple." That's right. She had forgotten. He hadn't actually cared about her until she had proved just how valuable she was.

"It is!" She bit her lip and sat back down. "I mean, I always knew Talia was your favorite – _that_ was obvious. And, then, of course, Ari was your _son_, but I was the one who did everything right. You never had to ask twice. And now, now that for the first time in my whole life I just want to do what _I_ want, you are willing for me to die in order to prevent that."

"You are wrong, Ziva." Eli shook his head slowly and, for a second, Ziva thought that she might actually be close to breaking him.

"How?" She asked. "_How_ am I wrong?"

"I simply want you where you belong." He repeated.

She sighed. Maybe she hadn't broken him – it always seemed to go back to her returning to him and Mossad. She wondered if he was really hearing her.

"I told you that I belong here. I belong with people who care about me – people who care about what I want and how I feel, people who would never order someone to fall in love with me as an assignment, as a way to manipulate me."

"I thought Michael was behind us." He said. It was like he was scolding her for bringing up his fallen officer.

"If you think that Michael is behind us, then you don't understand part of the problem." She shook her head at him. He was never going to understand the way she felt. "Our problems did not start with Michael, but they certainly escalated when you told him to do that."

"When did our problems start, then, Ziva? You said yourself that you were the one who always did everything right. Why start now?"

"Our problems started when I learned that life could be different."

"When you came here." He clarified, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes."

"This placed has changed you Ziva. You are not who you used to be. I don't like it. You are weaker, more vulnerable."

"I'm not stone cold like you are, anymore. I care." She hissed at him, leaning forward in her chair.

"Why do you think I do what I do, Ziva?"

"I do not know, anymore." Ziva admitted. She sat back in the chair and crossed her arms over her chest – protecting herself from what he was about to say.

"I do it for you. I do it so that people can live the life that you want to live without the fear of their country being blown from the map!" He stressed the end of his sentence.

She took a deep breath and stared at the floor for a minute. What was she supposed to say to that? If he had wanted to make her feel guilty, he had succeeded. He had devoted his life to the protection of the State of Israel and she had all but abandoned it.

"I respect that. I do." She said. "But, at some point, you must separate me as your daughter and me as one of your officers – because I was your daughter first and you should want me to be happy. I have served my country and do not regret any of it." She wasn't sure if she believed that last statement, but she felt like she had to say it. "Now, however, I wish to live a different kind of life."

"I don't agree with your decision." He said flatly. She didn't think that he would. In a perfect world, Eli David would support his daughter, but Ziva knew full well that she didn't live in a perfect world.

"I am not asking you to. I only ask that you respect it." She said.

"You could live another kind of life in Israel, Ziva." He said and she saw that look in his eyes – the one that said that he thought he could turn this back in his direction, steer her back to where he believed she belonged – under his control and on his land.

"My life is here, now." She was going to stand her ground. Her mind flickered to nights spent in Tony's arms and days spent with Rachel. She wouldn't – couldn't be happy anywhere else but here, with them.

"Israel is your home, Ziva." His voice was beginning to escalate and she realized that he wasn't going to let her go that easily.

"I am Israeli. I will always be, but DC is my home now."

"You believe Anthony when he professes his love to you like you believed Michael?" He asked. It was another final attempt at manipulating her into second guessing her own judgment. He had done it, and been successful, before.

That statement, though, struck a cord. It was just like what had sent her over the edge on the phone and he was well aware of that. She shifted in her seat and took a shaky breath. She wouldn't let him get to her this time.

"Do not drag Tony into this." It was a futile attempt at keeping the conversation in a place she could handle, but an attempt nonetheless.

"He is a big reason that you are here, though. Is he not?" She wanted to rip that cocky grin off his face.

"He is." She acknowledged.

"You did not answer my question, Ziva. You think he loves you?" He asked.

"I know he loves me." She said through gritted teeth.

"And you think that you will still want him around once you _recover_?" Eli knew that he was about to alarm the cavalry and, quite honestly, he was curious to see how they would react. By now, it was clear to him that he would be unable to convince his daughter to return with him on her own accord. He hadn't decided if he would resort to force, so, now, he just played the game.

She couldn't believe that he'd said that. So, he _had_ heard everything. Her cheeks burned and her stomach dropped – there were some things that she just didn't want him to know. She took a shaky breath. He knew _everything_ and he _still_ did this to her.

Ziva's mouth only hung agape for a brief moment before the door to interrogation swung open and Tony and Gibbs stormed in. Gibbs stepped right in front of the table and threw his hands down, causing the table to shake.

"I think we're done here," he grunted.

Tony flashed her a concerned look before taking up a spot next to Gibbs. He didn't dare take the brush against her arm that every sane bone in his body told him she needed. There was no way he could do it without Eli noticing and the situation did not need to be escalated any further. He saw her stand up through the corner of his eye. She looked like she was trying so hard to stay strong. He was so incredibly proud of her.

"What about you, Agent DiNozzo, how will you feel when she no longer needs you to sleep through the night – when she is no longer a _scared_ and _cowering_ little girl. "

That comment was enough to make Tony snap. Eli _Dah-vid_ didn't get to say things like that about Ziva – in fact, no one did.

In less than a second, he was across the table, grabbing Eli David by the collar. Tony couldn't contain the anger inside of him. First, he hadn't believed her when she told him that Tony loved her and now, he was suggesting Tony's stance wasn't permanent; that he didn't want the real Ziva, the one who wouldn't need his comfort.

That was it for him. He lost it.

"_Don't_ talk about her like that." He growled.

He let him go with a snap and Eli fell back into the chair. Despite the scuttle, he still had a small little smile on his face. And it was that smile that made Gibbs decide to pull the plug on this whole little show. He had had enough. He was going to end this. He turned to face his Agents and then pointed to the door.

"You two. Out! _Now_."

* * *

Tony didn't need more than that to grab his utterly stunned partner by the arm and drag her out the door. He pulled her out and then shut the door behind him. As much as he wanted to see what Gibbs was about to do, he had more important things to attend to.

He let go of her arm and watched as she stumbled a few feet down the hallway. She stopped and put her hands on her knees. Tony watched Ziva bend over and try and catch her breath.

She looked like she was having a panic attack – hyperventilating, even. It took him back a bit.

Not wanting to startle her, or bother her, Tony waited a few seconds before approaching her. When he finally did, he moved slowly and leaned against the wall before daring to speak, let alone touch her.

"I'm sorry for snapping." He thought that was better than asking whether or not she was okay – since, clearly, she wasn't.

"He deserved it." She said. She was right next to him, but her voice sounded so far away and distant.

Deciding that it was safe now, he placed a hand on her back and to his relief, she chose that moment to stand up and turn towards him. It was the first time he had got a really good look at those eyes of hers that told more than she would ever be willing to disclose out loud. They were hardened and pained, but he had seen them look worse before. He hoped that that was a positive thing. She took the hand that he had lain on her back and laced her fingers through it. Ziva squeezed his hand.

"It was going okay until he started questioning everything that I am doing."

Tony nodded. He didn't really know how to respond. He didn't think that it had ever been going okay. From the moment she walked in there, Eli had been nothing but unbearably harsh on her.

"I had expected a lot of what he said," she paused, "well, most of it."

He ran a hand from her shoulder down to her wrist before asking, "Zi, what'd he say to you in Hebrew."

She took a deep breath and looked down at the floor. "He reminded me of what he is capable of and the power that he holds."

"You know he can't do anything." He reassured. By now, he was sure that she did know that, but, still, he had to say it.

"I know. A while ago, you made a promise never to let me go again. You will keep it." She smiled.

"Damn right I will." And there was that smile that she always took strength from. It was different this time, though. Usually the glow that came from that smile danced all the way up until it illuminated his eyes. Now, however, there was nothing glowing in his eyes. Now, his eyes held something else. She realized that it was his sincerity.

"How do you think Gibbs plans on ending this?" she asked.

"I have no idea. He will, though."

She nodded in agreement and he took her hand and pulled her against him. He lead her down the hallway. He didn't want to be standing outside of the door if Eli walked out. That would be _awkward_.

He badged into the stairwell and then sat down on the first step. She sat down next to him.

"Scared of someone walking out?" she teased. At least she still had some humor. That was a plus.

He knew that she expected him to keep the air light like she had and respond with another jab or joke, but he had to get this off his chest. He had to. "You know, it was absolutely excruciating watching you squirm in there."

"Did Gibbs force you to stay?" she asked.

"A couple times, but he had to physically restrain me when he said that you had become weak. I was at the door when his hand landed on my shoulder."

She sighed and let her head fall on his shoulder – her whole body deflated. She could breathe now. She knew she would have to face him again, but, for now, the famous storm had calmed. She felt Tony wrap his arm around her shoulder and let him pull her against him. He kissed the top of her head.

"I am glad that it's over." She admitted.

"Me too."

They sat in silence for a few moments and she replayed the whole conversation in her head. Contrary to Tony's belief, it really hadn't been as bad as she thought that it would be. In reality, Eli was not an evil man – just a selfish one, doing a very unselfish job. He was quite the contradiction. He was willing to give up everything for his country and she admired that, but he was unwilling and unable to understand that not everyone is capable of doing that. Part of her felt bad for him – he would never understand just how much he had lost her. She just hoped that he wasn't crazy enough to try and force her against her will. It would get messy then, and she doubted that anyone in this building would hesitate in taking him down.

"I'm sure I'll have to confront him again." She said. Though that was not something she was necessarily looking forward to, she did not have that feeling of dread deep inside of her anymore.

"Can I be there this time?" He asked. He craned his neck so that he could actually get a look at her face.

She raised an eyebrow before smiling and saying, "Yes."

* * *

Leon Vance was on the phone with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu of Israel when his secretary dropped a note on his desk. _Gibbs wants you to join him in interrogation._ The Prime Minister had heard that there was something going on with Eli (presumably, one of the Mossad Agents had sent out some type of a distress call). He told Vance that he had thought Eli was on a personal trip – coming to United States to visit his daughter. He didn't understand why NCIS was involved, let alone supposedly detaining him. Though Vance had only met Netanyahu before only briefly, the man felt comfortable enough to call and ask about the curious situation.

"You know his daughter?" The Director asked. He folded the note and dropped it in the trash. He would finish this conversation first.

"I do not." He paused for a moment, seemingly trying to determine why. "Director David is a very private man. I thought I met her briefly when I first assumed the office, but, Director Vance, I meet so many people."

"Of course. I understand, Mr. Prime Minister. I will not occupy your time with the long story, but Director David's daughter is an NCIS agent." Leon paused this time. He was trying to decide what exactly he was going to tell Eli's boss. The Director of Mossad only answers to the Prime Minister. "The Director has been involved in some questionable activity in regards to her and we are just trying to sort through it."

"What _kind_ of questionable activity?" The Prime Minister asked. He was suddenly more interested in the conversation than he had been before.

"He was spying on her with Mossad resources." Vance said bluntly.

There was a short pause and Vance imagined the Prime Minister trying to process the fact that the director of one his government agencies is exploiting government funds. "Obviously, the State of Israel does not condone the use of government resources for personal advances."

"I'm sure it doesn't." Vance assured.

"If you don't mind, I'd like you to pass a message along to Eli for me."

"I'll do my best," Vance said.

"If Eli is unable to successfully untangle himself from this delicate situation that he seems to have found himself in with NCIS, I am not opposed to finding a new and more, _responsible_ person to lead one of Israel's most sensitive government agencies." Well, that was pretty clear.

"Understood."

"And soon, for that matter." Netanyahu added.

"I will let him know, Mr. Prime Minister."

"Thank you, Director Vance and please wish Eli's daughter the best of luck for me. If you ever need anything, please, do not hesitate to call me _directly_."

"I will make sure I pass that along. Thank you for your time."

"Shalom."

"Shalom." Vance put the phone back on the receiver and got up from his desk. It was time to end this little game that Gibbs and Eli were probably playing right now.

* * *

He wasn't sure whom, but either he or DiNozzo had certainly lost their mind. That was Jethro's only thought as he watched his Senior Field Agent dragged his best Agent out of the interrogation room.

Back in observation, Gibbs had watched Tony fidget and sweat as he watched his partner argue with her father. He had looked like he was in physical pain. Numerous times, Gibbs had urged Tony to stay put and let her do this, let her get this off her chest. To his credit, he had for most of the conversation. The only time he had totally lost it was when Eli had dared to tell his daughter that the U.S. had made her weak, more vulnerable. In a split second, Tony had been at the door, ready to give Eli a piece of his mind. Slapping a hand on his shoulder, Gibbs had pulled Tony back towards the window.

"She's okay." He had reassured. They had watched for another few seconds before the man before them dared to flaunt his daughter _recovery_ in front of her. That had been Gibbs' last straw. Eli had practically put her in that camp. He didn't get chastise her for being scarred from it.

He waited for the door to close and then turned back towards the Director of Mossad. He placed his hands on the table and leaned towards him.

"Was that enjoyable, Agent Gibbs?" Eli asked before Gibbs got the chance to say anything.

"You're a sadistic bastard." Gibbs said flatly. He was determined to keep his cool this time. The only way that he was going to be able to convince Eli to leave Ziva alone would be to stay calm. He could do this with other witnesses and suspects – he would do it with this one.

"She needed to be snapped back to reality." The nonchalance is his voice was almost enough to break Gibbs' reverie.

"_Back_?"

"In time, she will realize that once she is herself again she will not want Agent DiNozzo around. She will also realize that I, though it is unfortunate at times, have bigger things to worry about than my daughter's whereabouts."

"Like?"

"Keeping Israel on the world map."

"Its not like she's working against you, you know." Gibbs pulled the chair that Ziva had moved into the corner back towards the table. He sat down in it.

"She is no longer working with me. It is one in the same."

"Then just stay away from her. You don't need to put her through this. She's been through enough."

"She knew what she was getting into when she joined up. You get yourself in difficult situations and you have to push through. I do not like what she went through, but coddling her now will not take it away."

"She's not asking you to do that." Gibbs said.

"You have not heard the tapes from her apartment then?" Eli raised an eyebrow, thinking for a moment that he knew more than Gibbs.

"She's asking other people to do that – nothing wrong with that."

"Years ago, she would have never –"

"She's not the same person that she was when you convinced her to kill her own brother."

"I do not understand or know the new Ziva."

"_Get_ to know her." Gibbs said.

"I am not sure that I want to." Eli admitted.

"_Fine_, but those of us who do know her, really care about her."

"Is that a threat, Agent Gibbs?"

"Does it need to be?"

"Does what need to be?" Director Vance asked, coming into the room. He took up a post behind Gibbs.

"Leon, I'm glad you could join us."

"Director David," Vance began, choosing to get to the point, "I just got off the phone with Prime Minister Netanyahu. He wanted me to let you know that, unless you are able to clean up this mess, he will find someone else to replace you – someone who doesn't use government resources for personal gains."  
"I see."

"Special Agent Gibbs, how can Director David get himself out of this precarious situation he has gotten himself into?"

"He leaves and he leaves her alone. He admits to what he did and he agrees never to do it again. If he does, we press charges."

"That sounds fair." Vance said.

"You do not need me to admit that I ordered those things. You already know it." Eli said.

"I think that Ziva deserves to hear it." Vance said. He was unable to keep his mind from floating to Kayla. He kept putting her in Ziva's shoes.

* * *

After nearly four hours, Gibbs had called and released Rachel from her Mossad guarding duties. She was more than happy to leave McGee alone with those guys. The four officers had resisted her attempts to make idle conversation and she had struggled to stay awake. Rachel was going on twenty–two hours without sleep. McGee had told her that that wasn't even half bad – she reminded him that in those twenty hours she had literally climbed a mountain and then gone back to work.

"Find Ziva and bring her to me." Gibbs had said to her on the phone.

"Where is she?" she'd asked but her boss had already ended the call.

"Check the bathrooms, first," McGee called as she left the room.

It took her a good ten minutes to stumble upon them in the east staircase. She'd already gone to autopsy, the locker rooms, and Abby's lab, all of the elevators in the building, the evidence lockup, and the training gym and some of the conference rooms. In hindsight, she should have gone there directly after the bathrooms. It _was_ right near interrogation and it _was_ locked. She saw them from two flights below and watched as they moved away from each other at the sound of an approaching person.

"It's just me," she said reaching them. She'd have to hit that gym more. She was out of breath as she sank to a step just a few below Tony and Ziva.

"Chasing the Mossad officers around the building?" Tony asked.

"Ah … no. Looking for Ziva, actually." She glanced at Ziva and then continued, "Gibbs wants you. He didn't elaborate. He didn't even tell me where to find you." She wiped the sweat of her forehead.

"Good job, Probie," Tony said, patting her on the shoulder. "You found her on your own."

Ziva pushed herself off of the step and then turned towards the door. She pulled her badge out of her pocket and unlocked the door. "I don't want to keep Gibbs waiting," she mumbled. Really, she just wanted to get this, whatever this was, over with.

"Hey, wait," Tony jumped up from his spot and grabbed her arm. He pulled her back into the stairwell. "You said I could come with you."

She nodded. He thought he saw moisture welling up in her eyes but as soon as he saw it, it was gone.

He slacked his grip on her arm and put his hand in hers. "Okay, then."

* * *

Gibbs was listening to Vance and Eli from Observation when his Agents walked in. Eli was giving Vance a detailed explanation of how Ziva's apartment had been bugged and how many photos had been sent across the ocean to him. Gibbs turned and watched Tony and Ziva enter the room. More than anything, Ziva looked exhausted, numb. Tony stepped in behind her, worry strewn across his face. Gibbs turned to the audio technician and motioned for him to cut the feed. She didn't need to hear this.

"I want you to talk to him again." He said as she sidled up next to him, Tony closely behind her.

"Okay." She whispered.

"Not because I like to see you suffer."

"Gibbs, I know that – " She shook her head.

"I think you need to hear what he has to say."

* * *

Their display of solidarity was impressive. It was not something you would see at Mossad headquarters – Eli realized that. Four NCIS stood by the elevator that would take him out of this building. The CIA director's daughter and the other NCIS Agent whose name he could never remember flanked his own daughter. Special Agent DiNozzo was, of course, by her side. She had her arms crossed over her chest and it reminded him of the look she had given him as child. It was one of the only times that she'd ever looked that way, towards him, anyway – he had told that she couldn't get a pony.

"Ziva, I am sorry for what I have caused."

"Thank you." She said. She nodded her head, but refused to look her father in the eye.

"I was wrong to violate your… privacy and order those things to be done."

She nodded again.

"I will always hope that someday you will return, but… I will not force you."

"Thank you," she repeated. "Have a safe trip back."

Eli nodded, realizing he wasn't going to get anything else out of her. For a moment, he wasn't sure why he had actually come here in the first place. He wanted to speak with her – reprimand her for her behavior on the phone – convince her that her rightful place was back with him. But, another part of him just wanted to see her. She _was_ the only family he had left. When Malachi had returned from his attempt to bring her back he had been all business in the Director's office. He reported to Eli just what had happened with Special Agent Gibbs and nothing more. He relayed Gibbs' message and then asked to be excused; he was very tired. Eli had agreed, Ben-Guidon was one of his best officers and he would do his best to keep him happy with the Agency, but just as he reached the door, Eli called out for him to wait. What aren't you telling me, he'd asked. Malachi shrugged and said that she just looked very different. He left.

The elevator doors opened and Eli caught a glance flicker between Special Agent Gibbs and Special Agent DiNozzo.

"I'll escort you down." DiNozzo said, stepping into the elevator before him. Eli watched his daughter's eye go just a bit wide and realized that she had not planned on this. As the doors closed and took her from his view, he wondered if he would ever see her again.

"You have been quiet this evening, Agent DiNozzo," Eli remarked.

"Yeah, well," Tony scratched the back of his had, "I didn't really have much to say."

"But you do now?" Eli asked.

The elevator slowed and Tony realized that if he were going to do something, he'd have to do it now. He reached over and flicked the emergency stop. They stopped moving. "Listen," he began, "I love your daughter. She knows that…. A lot of people around here know that. I…ah… just thought you should know that."

"I am aware of that. I was aware of that the last time we met."

"You just don't like me?" Tony asked.

"Not particularly," Eli said. "But, I think we both know that that does not really matter."

Eli reached around Tony and set the elevator in motion. If she was going to love anyone here, he supposed that Agent DiNozzo wasn't too bad of a choice. It cemented her here – he didn't like that, but he wouldn't do anything about it. He couldn't anger Netanyahu anymore. Eli firmly believed that he was the only one capable of successfully running Mossad. It was something that he had to keep.

* * *

Rachel watched in utter shock as Tony stepped into the elevator with Eli David. Well, that was one way to make sure he never bothered Ziva again.

"If they kill each other, Gibbs…" Ziva warned.

"Eh, Ziva, give him a little credit," Gibbs smiled and then walked away. He reached the bullpen and then turned back towards his group of agents. "Hey, Williams. Take her home. I need DiNozzo for a bit."

"I'm sure Tony will have some type of incident report to file, anyway." Ziva said. She walked with Rachel to the back stairs and took them to the parking lot. She was asleep before Rachel even pulled out of the Navy Yard.

* * *

**This was extra difficult for me so, more than usual, I'd love to know what you thought. **

**Thanks. **

**Cara**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I want to thank everyone for all of the reviews that I have gotten - especially the ones from people who don't have an account that I can reply to. They mean so so much! **

**On that note - there is a lot of dialogue coming up and I'd love to know your favorite line again!**

**Chapter Fifteen:**

It was a slight nudge of the shoulder that woke Ziva up – that, and the bright light of a streetlight that they were parked under. She rubbed her eyes and then regained her whereabouts – an NCIS car with Rachel. _Right._ She almost couldn't believe that just hours ago, she had been having it out with her father. It felt so far away – so distant. She turned and saw Rachel staring at her, a look of amusement on her face.

"Sorry, Rach," she said, "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you." She sat up straighter in the seat and unlatched her seat belt.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders. "It's fine. You _did_ sleep through my Dunkin' Donuts run, though." She proudly held up a large Styrofoam cup.

"You are going to need to drink _two_ of those." She flipped the door lock up and opened the door. A cool breeze filtered into the car – winter had definitely arrived. Ziva's neck cracked as she pushed herself out of seat. It was either a result of the position it had been in during the car ride home, or the exorbitant amount of tension that had spent the week there. "Thanks for the ride."

Rachel nodded and then ventured to ask, "you okay?"

Ziva thought for a moment before answering. She wasn't going to lie to Rachel anymore. She promised them both that. "I am kind of in a daze," she answered, "I think once I take a nap, I will feel better."

"Not really what I meant…" Rachel chided.

"I know," Ziva said, she leaned against the open door frame, "But, I'm not sure how I am about the other things so I settled on telling you about my physical well being."

"Fair enough."

"I will talk to you later, Rachel," She closed the door and patted the top before turning towards her building.

Ziva walked inside and rode the elevator to the second floor without really knowing what she was doing. In another minute, she was inside her apartment and locking the door behind her. She let her coat fall on the arm of the couch and settled down with a blanket. In another minute, she was asleep.

* * *

By the time Tony got back from the Navy Yard, the sun was beginning to poke out from the horizon. He couldn't remember the last time he had been up at dawn that wasn't work related. That couldn't be normal. It had been nearly three hours since he had ushered Eli _Dah-vid_ out of the building. He had returned to the squadroom to find it empty except for Gibbs.

"Sent Ziva home with Rachel. McGee is sleeping in Abby's lab." Gibbs had said, responding to Tony's unspoken question.

Tony had nodded, though it killed him not to be with Ziva right now, and then sat down on the edge of McGee's desk. It had been clear that Gibbs wanted him for something. He waited for Gibbs to speak again.

"Abby recovered all of the audio. She's destroying it now. Protocol; I had to listen to it first."

"I suppose its nothing you didn't read in the file."

"Just thought you should know," Gibbs had said and then went back to what he was doing.

Tony had then resigned himself to complete some of the paperwork that he had ignored over the past week. If he didn't start now, he wouldn't be able to see over the pile by Monday morning. He'd figured that Ziva was with Rachel and for the next two and a half hours he got more work done than he had in a month.

Tony slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. He hadn't seen another Charger outside; Rachel must have left. The apartment was still primarily dark, despite the increasing amount light outside. The front shades were still drawn from earlier in the night and there wasn't a single light on in the house. He stepped in and noted the peace of the place.

Tony found her fast asleep on the couch, snoring like one of the drunken sailors that he had busted during his time on the _Seahawk_. Her arms and her legs were curled up tight to her chest and she looked a foot shorter than she actually was. She could make herself so small when she wanted to. He sat down by her head on the edge of the couch and slipped his suit jacket off. He draped it over her. There was a blanket balled up at the other end of the couch that looked like it might have once covered her. He reached for it and covered her in that too. He didn't want her to wake up cold.

Finally, he could relax. He hadn't had to enact the Antarctica plan, or the Fiji plan or, his personal favorite, the Andorra plan. Someday they would go to all of those places – well, maybe they'd skip Antarctica and substitute Rome or Venice. Though, he figured she'd already been to all of those places – maybe not Fiji. He would have to remember that – _future reference_.

She stirred next to him and he found his fingers gently caressing her cheek, lulling her back to sleep. She shifted, purred and then calmed back down. He turned back and untied his other shoe. It was times like this that made him really wonder how they got here. It was like a dream that he was sure to wake up from – she couldn't have chosen him.

"Did you kill my father," she mumbled, her voice soft and still sounding half asleep.

He twisted back and looked down at her. He eyes were still shut, but he could tell that she was awake. "Nah. We just talked."

"You _talked_?" Her eyes shot open and she pushed herself up into a sitting position, giving him an incredulous look.

"Mhmm," he nodded, scooting himself back into the cushion and wrapping his arm around her. He threw his jacket onto the other arm of the couch. She laid back down against him. "I simply told him that I love you."

"And he said what?" She asked.

He pulled the elastic out of her hair and twined a strand around his finger. What were they supposed to do now? The threat was gone – the storm had passed. He kept looking for a rainbow, but life was never quite that simple, now was it? He let go of the piece of hair and, instead, occupied his fingers with her hand. "He said that he'd always known that and that it was clear his opinion didn't matter."

She sighed. "I am not going to let that conversation bother me. I'm not going to start thinking about how angry I am that he knew your motives were genuine when we were in Tel Aviv." Because, if she did, things would only get all the more complicated and all Ziva wanted was for things to get simpler.

"Probably a good idea." He agreed.

She pulled the blanket up more and spread it over Tony. She snuggled further into his chest.

Ziva was tired. Tony was tired. But, all they could do was sit together, sit together and stare at the wall. They were still so wired – she couldn't remember the last time that she had felt able to relax like this. She wasn't sure if she knew how.

"Is this what normal people do?" she asked after neither of them spoke for quite some time.

"No. I don't think normal people are wide-awake at –" he looked at the digital clock on the cable box, "six-forty eight on a Saturday morning." He grazed his fingers up and down her spine.

"We could have been out all night," she offered, "like clubbing or something."

"Aren't we a little old for that?"

"_You_ are."

"Thanks for that, Sweetcheeks." He said as she reached up and patted his cheek.

They floated back into their comfortable silence. Neither one of them felt the need to speak, neither one felt the need to move. After a while, Tony was lulled to sleep by the steady rising and falling of Ziva's chest against his. Her hand hadn't moved inside his in quite sometime; she had stopped rubbing circles with her thumb moments ago. He figured she'd fallen asleep and decided that he would join her. Leaning his head back on the cushion, he closed his eyes. He was just about to drift off to sleep when she started to move again.

"Tony," she whispered, saying his name with a touch of hesitation.

"Mhmm." He was barely awake.

"Thank you for today…" She shook her head, "tonight… _last_ night."

"Didn't really do anything, Zi," He mumbled, barely audible.

"You were there."

"Its my job." He mumbled again, only to realize what that could be construed as, "I mean my job as me, as your… boyfriend." He couldn't remember if he'd ever said that out loud to her. Inwardly, he referred to them as a couple all the time – she was his girlfriend. She was more than that, but he wouldn't get into that right now. It could wait. Now, they had time.

"I knew what you meant." She said, a small smirk coming across her face. Then, she too closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Things took a strange turn for the team after that – strangely normal, that is. Rachel began to integrate herself as the fourth musketeer; Navy personnel died, stole things and went missing. Each week, each day, the Major Case Response Team dealt with someone else's emergency – they'd dealt with their own enough in the recent months. Head slaps were once again dealt to each deserving member; this included everyone on the team, even Jimmy Palmer.

Tony and Ziva settled into a quiet routine of their own. They returned, to everyone's relief, to idle bantering and annoying each other while at work. Tony ganged up on "all of his Probies" whenever the opportunity presented itself and Ziva made sure to play a few pranks herself. Some nights they went out with the team, some nights Rachel came for dinner and lamented about her love life, or lack there of. In turned out, Tyler wasn't quite her type. Other nights, they returned to the quietness of their apartment solo. They would lay on the couch together, flicking through the channels and looking for something that they could both agree on. To each of them, it was simply a game they got to play. Ziva didn't really care – she'd watch another NCAA game with him and Tony didn't really mind watching those history channel shows that made him feel like he was sitting in a high school classroom again. Nonetheless, they both enjoyed fighting over the remote too much to admit to either of those things. Usually, they'd end up with a show on the television that neither of them wanted to watch, so they'd turn to each other and occupy themselves other ways.

As the stress from Eli's visit left Ziva's shoulders, so did the fear in her eyes. It seemed that stress _did_ bring about old memories. She had nightmares less and when she did, she woke up understanding that they were in fact only dreams. It had been weeks since Tony's touch had reminded her of Saleem or his henchmen and each time they kissed they went just a little further. They got changed in the same room, their backs to each other, but the same room, nonetheless. She walked around in a towel and didn't lock the bathroom door as she showered. Under Tony's dutiful care, the scars on her back began to really heal. Each night, he played doctor and took care of the marks until they turned pink and he realized that one day, they'd barely be noticeable to the untrained eye.

The holidays came and went and the federal government shut down for a snowstorm that only produced a dusting of snow for the city. Nevertheless, all four of Special Agent Gibbs' team members showed up the next day, ignoring the fact that there wasn't another living soul in the building. If an outsider walked into the bullpen during the first week in January, they would never have known what an eventful last four months of the previous year those five people had had.

* * *

It was a cold and snowy middle of January morning when Tony was roused from his sleep by the sound of the house phone ringing. No one ever called the house phone, well, no one good, he supposed. He stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen. Tony picked up the phone, instantly wishing that it had caller I.D.

"Hello?"

"Can you put Ziva on?" Rachel asked.

"Rach, do you have any idea what time it is?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. He turned towards the stove to catch a glimpse of the clock – half past six.

"Yeah, yeah, Tony, sorry, it's early, but this is important." He could hear the excitement in her voice – it was so extremely Abby like. It almost scared him.

"More important than sleeping after the long nights we've had this week?"

"You're killing me, Tony!" She groaned.

"Seriously, Rachel, we saw you like six hours ago – less, five."

"Fine, go back to bed and tell Ziva that Aiden asked me out!" She squealed the end of the sentence and Tony had to roll his eyes.

"That guy who you always see at the top of the Lincoln Memorial? The Senate aide?"

"You remember!"

"Goodbye, Rachel."

"Have her call me!" she said as he hung the phone back on the receiver. Sometimes, Rachel made it easy to forget that she was a highly educated young woman and not a teenage girl. But, usually, ten minutes later, she would quote a Supreme Court Justice while unlawfully entering a suspect's house and you would forget all about it the teenybopper moment.

Crawling back into bed, Tony pulled Ziva's sleeping body closer and then buried his head in the pillow. _Rachel_ – she'd only called the house phone because she knew that their cell phones would be on silent. He closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep. He had almost succumbed to the darkness when he felt Ziva wriggle out from under his arm.

"Don't leave," he whined.

"It's almost seven," she answered.

"So?"

"So, I am going for a run." He felt her move off of the bed and heard her open the bureau drawers.

"Rachel called," he mumbled.

"I thought I heard something," she said. There was some ruffling as she looked for the item of clothing that she wanted.

"Ninja senses fading with age?" he asked.

"My response will be… what is the word I keep calling you… _sappy_. My response would be sappy so I'm not going to respond to that false accusation."

"Aww. Thanks, baby." He could have turned over to talk to her and receive a glaring stare after calling her her least favorite term of endearment, but he didn't. He knew she was only comfortable changing in the same room if he wasn't looking. The progress was small – one might even say miniscule, but to him it was progress and that was all that mattered.

"I really do not like being called that."

"_Anyway_, I guess that Senatorial aide that she always sees at the top of the Lincoln Memorial asked her out this morning."

"Really?" She was just as excited as Rachel had been. Maybe he should have given her the phone.

"Mhmm. She wants you to call her."

"That's great. Hopefully, he is a good guy."

"You'll just shoot him if he's not." He muttered.

"Ok, I am leaving before I shoot _you_." Her steps were louder now, her feet clearly clad in her running sneakers. He heard her walk out of the bedroom and suddenly, he had no desire to go back to sleep. He rolled off the bed and ran after her down the hall.

Tony caught up to Ziva in the kitchen. He came up behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her flat against his chest.

"You forgot something," he murmured, his lips resting on her shoulder.

"And what would _that_ be?" She asked craning her neck to the side. She raised an eyebrow.

"You get hit by a bus and the last thing you said to me was that you had the desire to _shoot_ me?" he protested.

"Sappy. That's sappy." She said.

"No. That's dramatic, but –"

"I love you, Tony." She said, gently knocking her head against his.

"And I love you." He responded, placing another kiss on her collarbone.

"Now, I am going for a run."

It wasn't until a few minutes after Ziva left that Tony got around to checking his cell phone. Thankfully, he didn't have any missed calls. It looked like they might get a real weekend for the first time in weeks. He was flipping the phone shut when something caught his eye. He hadn't even realized _that_ when he had woken up. He'd have to do _something_.

* * *

A little more than an hour and a half later, Ziva stepped out of the steaming shower. For the most part, winter in DC wasn't too bad, but there were days, like today, when you just couldn't believe how cold it was. She had run just a little bit faster, hoping to really keep herself warm. She grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped it around herself. Sometime in the last few weeks, she had found herself just a little bit more comfortable. She ditched the bathrobe and found herself walking around her bedroom, the apartment even, in only a towel. She tried to play it down. It wasn't anything big – she was just getting back to normal, but Tony had always noticed and offered a small smile.

She stepped out of the bathroom and moved towards her dresser. Still, she often found herself wondering how long it would be before she felt _completely_ normal again. She wanted to _really_ be with Tony, but she was nervous that she would slip back into a flashback and totally panic – then Tony would never want to touch her again. Lately, he'd been the one showing restraint in the relationship. There had been nights, a couple of them, when Ziva was completely convinced that she was ready – beyond ready. She'd flat out told him that she planned on having sex with him that night. And then he'd get all serious and tell her to just relax, just give herself some more time. He wasn't in a hurry. She was, though, because she knew that the first time would be the hardest, the most uncomfortable, the one where the flashbacks would be in full fury. She wanted to get that over with.

A hand came up from behind and covered her eyes. She jumped and instantly went to grab the hand until she recognized the calluses. Maybe he had a point.

"Your senses _are_ fading," Tony chided.

"I was thinking." She said.

"Whatever you say, _baby_," he teased.

"Are you just _looking_ for me to kill you or do you have another reason for doing this?" she asked.

"I have another reason."

"Which is…?"

Tony took his hand away from her eyes and revealed his other hand, holding a vanilla cupcake with white frosting and a poorly drawn chocolate drizzled flower on the top. She turned and raised her eyebrow at him.

"Is this for being irritating this morning?" she asked.

"Uh…_no_…it's a happy something present."

"Something?" She turned her head at him, completely confused.

"Never mind," he shock his head, "It's just a happy."

"A happy what?" She asked still not understanding where he was going with this. She saw him sigh and then he opened his mouth to talk.

"A month ago today, you explicitly ordered me _not_ to renew my lease."

Her eyes widened. "It was three days after my –"

He nodded, cutting her off. "So, I went down to Georgetown Cupcakes and they have this thing for kids – like design your own cupcake…"

She laughed and then reached up and patted his cheek. "Flower drawing is not in your future, but the effort is extremely sweet."

"_Flower_?" He asked. "No. No. No." He shook his head. "It's a _T_," he pointed to a set of curvy lines, "and a _Z_," he pointed to another set of lines.

"_Oh_."

"You don't see it?" he asked, his shoulders slumping a bit.

"No," she smiled, "I do, a little."

"Here," he said. He pealed the wrapping off and carefully pulled the little cake apart. He handed her what he had called the _T_ and then proceeded to eat the _Z_ himself. She followed suit and found herself telling him, with her mouth full, just how good it was.

"It just proves my point, though," she said after she had swallowed the last bit of cupcake.

"What point?"

"That you are _sappy_." He swore that that had become her knew favorite word. Of course, it was only after he corrected her use of syrupy.

"Most women would call that downright romantic."

"Well, I'm not most women, am I?" And she batted her eyes at him and for a second he saw not the Ziva in front of him, but the one who had slouched provocatively in McGee's chair. The conversation played back in his head. _ Oh, women do it, too, with attractive men, and even the occasional women_. Maybe she hadn't changed _that_ much over the years.

"You certainly aren't, Sweetcheeks," he said, kissing her lips, "you certainly aren't."

He took her hand and led her over to their unmade bed; never letting his lips leave hers. His hand roamed her shoulders and her back and there was that fire inside her that she had missed so much. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him with her as she fell back onto the bed. She liked where this was going. And just like that his hand moved from her shoulder to her chest where the towel was secured together. He looked her in the eye.

"You trust me, right?" He asked.

"Yes." She nodded – because she did. She trusted him more than she did anyone else in the world. Ziva felt his hand undo the towel and suddenly it was gone – no longer covering her. She looked down at herself and then back at him. His eyes hadn't moved from her face. He moved his leg out from between her knees so that he could brace himself above her. She wondered if he could hear just how loud her heart was beating. He leaned down and kissed her again, his lips only brushing her own. It left her wanting more and she hadn't realized that she was trembling until she was unable to reach her arm up and wrap it around his neck in an effort to pull him closer. She stared wide-eyed at her hand and tried, unsuccessfully, to control the shaking. She could do this; she could. He had been so romantic this morning and she wanted nothing more than to be here, all here, and all with him.

Seemingly understanding what she was trying to do, Tony took her hand and pulled it up to his neck. He leaned down again and kissed her again, this time letting his lips linger there for a moment. He knew how to tease and he hoped it could ease her fears.

Ziva gained some of her confidence back and pulled him back down, but this time he didn't kiss her lips, instead, he started a trail. He started at the corner of her mouth, moved to her ear, the side of her neck, her collarbone, where he could feel her heart beating and all the way down the center of her chest. He stopped just above her waistline. She could have sworn that he was going to continue his journey south but he stopped there, he stopped there and he repeated the motion until he reached her mouth again.

Ziva thought that her heart was going to beat out of her chest. A throbbing pulse was rocketing it's way through her body and she knew that there was only one way to silence it – only one way to satisfy it . . . but the thought of having sex . . . She couldn't. No. The last time – the last five – _ten_ times had been so . . . violent . . . so painful. Ziva felt her breathing escalate. It wasn't right. She _should_ be able to do this with her boyfriend, the man she trusts, the man she loved, the man she slept with every night. But when she pictured herself having sex with Tony, all she saw was a dirty, grimy floor and her hands were tied and there were bloody tears streaming down her face and they were above her, inside her and they, they wouldn't stop. She had to move. If she didn't move, she'd never get away.

"Zi?" Tony asked. He knew _that_ look on her face. She wasn't here with him; she was off somewhere else. "_Ziva_?" He moved to lie down next to her.

She saw the break and knew that if she were going to move, she would have to do it now. She pushed herself off of the bed and then doubled over in pain.

"Ziva!"

She felt sick. She pushed herself off the floor and ran into the bathroom. She made it to the bowl just in time for her stomach to empty her breakfast. She was panting and sweating and it wasn't until she felt her bathrobe coming around her shoulders that she realized what had happened. And as she did, a fresh set of salty tears came streaming down her face. Tony's hand's came up behind her and held her hair back as she retched into the toilet again. This wasn't happening. It wasn't. She was done with these panic attacks and flashbacks. She turned and slumped against the wall. She couldn't even bare to look at Tony right now.

They sat in silence for a few moments until Ziva caught her breath and the pounding in her chest slowed down. Tony slowly pulled the robe further around her before wrapping his arm around her. She welcomed the movement and found herself collapsing in his lap.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered.

"Me too."

"Ziva, its _not_ your fault." He hated when she blamed herself for things like this. It made him so incredibly angry. All of this was out of her control. If this, right now, was anyone's fault, it was his. He shouldn't have gone that far – she wasn't ready. Her pain right now – it was his fault.

"This is never ending." She sighed.

"That's not true. You know how far you've come. Today was totally my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you so far."

She nodded and he ran a comforting hand through her hair a few times before pushing her off his lap. "I'll be right back," he promised.

He returned less than a minute later with a small pile of clothes in his hands. He handed them to her saying, "I think it will make you feel better." He shut the door and let her change alone.

When five minutes past without the door opening, Tony got up from his spot on the bed and knocked on the door. "Zi?" He waited but she didn't respond. "Ziva?"

Still, no response.

He turned the handle, thinking it would be locked, but, instead, the door creaked open. He saw her sitting, now fully dressed, in the same spot he had left her in. Her arms secured her knees up to her chest and her head rested on top, facing away from him. The sight shattered his heart into a million little pieces. He approached her slowly, hoping that his presence wasn't unwanted. Tony sat down on the floor next to Ziva.

"Talk to me, please," he quietly begged.

"I can't." she said.

His stomach sunk and he realized what a big mistake it had been. She was hurt. She was hurt by him – she couldn't even talk to him, he'd gone _that_ wrong. "Ziva, I am so incredibly sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you. I should have realized how that would pan out."

She turned her head the other side and stared at him. His head was in his hands. She reached over and laced her hand inside his – desperate for the contact to anchor them both. "That's no what I meant," she said. "I just don't know what to say. Lately, I have been so much better than this. I am just . . . disappointed and frustrated. I'm not mad at you. Why . . . How could I be mad at you?"

He looked up then and locked eyes with her. "I'm still sorry," he said, "I hate seeing you in pain." He pulled her towards him and kissed the crown of her head. They sat together for a while, but then, he stood back up and pulled her to her feet. They weren't going to sit in the bathroom all morning. Just as she came to her feet, he swept her off them and scooped her up in his arms.

"Tony!" she cried in amusement.

He carried her out of the bathroom and through the bedroom and down the hall and into the living room. "For someone with so much muscle," he said, "you are _remarkably_ easy to carry." Tony collapsed on the couch, landing Ziva on his lap. He locked his arms around her waist and smiled when he felt her head fall against his chest.

"That is a good thing."

"Why, Agent David? You pride yourself on being easily lift-able?"

"Only by you." She smirked.

"I love you, you know," Tony said, turning serious again, "And one day we're going to look back on this and realize what a short period of time it was."

"Are you implying that I am going to have sex with you for the rest of my life?" She turned her head and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Do you want the sappy answer or the non sappy one?"

"Sappy."

"No. I'm not implying that because we're never going to have sex, well, I mean, besides the times we have in the past." He watched her turn her head at him in confusion and then he continued with the punch line. "But, I _was_ implying that I plan on making love to you for the rest of your life."

She offered him a genuine smile before playfully slapping him against the chest. "You think that what we did in the past will be different than what we do in the future?" she asked. Lately, they had talked more and more about the future. They hadn't discussed marriage but on some level it was clear between the two of them that they wanted this thing to be permanent – really permanent.

"Yeah, I do." He answered.

"Why?" Ziva asked.

"Because we're different and the situation is different. I don't know. I just think that it will."

"How come more people do not see this Tony? He would be much more appreciated than the frat boy."

"This Tony is only reserved for you – unless you're looking to get rid of him."

She shook her head, "I will keep him, but on one condition."  
"What condition?" He asked, a feign of skepticism on his face.

"You keep the Ziva who likes to cuddle and let's her ninja senses fade."

"I will most definitely keep her."

"It is settled then."

"Yes, baby," He kissed her, "It is."

* * *

**I moved a couple of scenes to the next chapter. Our favorite Dynamic Duo deserved a break and some time to just be with each other, but fear not - the drama will return!**

**Favorite line? What'd you think?**

**-Cara**


	16. Chapter 16

**Another short one and such a ridiculously long hiatus. I am officially very sorry. This is a bit of a filler - fair warning there. I'm thinking two or three chapters before the story is wrapped up. It will be followed by a sequel of course. **

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

Rachel stood in front of Tony and Ziva's stove and added just a little bit more oil to the frying pan. She was perfecting her lemon crusted chicken recipe. She was determined that it be her first original creation. Her great-grandchildren would tell stories about this chicken. It was going to be _epic_.

"Where is Aiden tonight?" Ziva asked from behind her. She was slicing vegetables at the kitchen table.

"Working." Rachel replied. "Senator Martin has some big piece of legislature that he's trying to get passed."

"So things are going well, then?"

"Yeah, things are." She flipped the chicken breast onto its other side. "I mean, we're taking things slow and simple. Both of us work a lot, he visits his sisters in Richmond a lot, and … well, I like to be here." She shrugged. "It works."

"You seem indifferent towards it."

"I like him." She paused and turned towards her friend. Rachel raised her hands into the air. "Do I love him? No, not now. Will I ever? I'm not sure."

"You are just enjoying the ride and having fun?" Ziva offered.

"Precisely." Rachel smiled and turned back to the pan. "I am only twenty-two. I suppose I have time."

"Yes, you do."

"Still though, I can't believe you're getting married before me." She turned her head slightly so that she would be able to catch Ziva's reaction.  
"_What_? What are you talking about?" She had stopped cutting the vegetables and was leaning back in the chair with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Oh, come on, Ziva. Talk to me." She looked at her watch. "Tony left, what, three minutes ago. He won't be back from the store for at least another fifteen minutes."

"I don't know what you think there is to talk about." Ziva was just a little bit flustered. She was talking with her hands and Rachel noticed just a hint of pink in her cheeks.  
"Fine. I'll ask questions." Satisfied that the chicken breast would be all right simmering for a moment, Rachel turned around and leaned against the counter. She smirked at Ziva before beginning her interrogation. "You going to marry him?"

"Marry _who_?" Ziva asked, feigning innocence.

"You know _who_," Rachel teased.

Ziva, not wanting to look Rachel in the eyes, turned back to her chopping. "I think . . . that I might . . . like to." She looked up a Rachel for a fraction of a second before finishing her thought. "But, I'm not the only one who makes that decision, you know."

"I know. And you're not the only one who I've put in the hot seat."

Ziva's face shot up in a brief moment of horror. "I cant decide if I think that that is nosey or intrusive or . . ."

"Eh, it was a while ago." Rachel shrugged.

"Was it, now?"

"Yeah. _Anyway_… have you guys talked about it?" Rachel wanted to get back to the discussion at hand. She knew Ziva was skirting the topic.

"Not in name, but we have talked enough about our future. Of course, I have not let him know that sometimes, I find myself imagining what our children would look like." She threw Rachel a bone. Truth be told, Ziva had been wanting to have this discussion with someone – preferably Rachel – for a while, she just hadn't wanted to bring it up. She didn't want to be thought of as presumptuous.

"Oh my gosh, Ziva!" Rachel covered her gaping mouth with her hand. "They'll be adorable. I can't wait!"

"Just because I'm thinking about it doesn't mean he is."

"Ziva what do you think he is thinking about when he plays with your hair for hours on end."

"That is a mindless form of affection. We are usually watching TV when he does that anyway."

"Right." Rachel rolled her eyes. "And is that during your shows or his?"

"Mine."

"My point in case." Rachel turned back to her creation and sprinkled just a hint more of breadcrumbs on top for good measure.

"Okay so what if he is, huh? Anthony DiNozzo will _not_ marry a woman that he hasn't had sex with. It would be against his nature."

Rachel sighed – so _that_ was what this was about. They still hadn't had sex since she'd been back. Of course, it was to be expected.

Lately, Ziva had told Rachel more and more about her ordeal in North Africa and the gruesome details only made Rachel understand how difficult this could possibly be for her friend.

"First of all, you two _have_ had sex. Neither of you will talk about it, but I remember his discreet presence a couple of years ago, and Abby told me about when Gibbs retired and about when Director Shepard died. She gave me a blow by blow of the interactions she has seen over the years between –"

"That was different though." Ziva cut in.

Rachel put her hand up, letting Ziva know that she wasn't finished. "And second of all, Anthony DiNozzo knows that you had the life fucking ripped from you in everyway possible way just six months ago." She talked slowly, trying to emphasize how short of a time period they were talking about. "I'm getting the feeling that it isn't all about sex for him, Ziva."

"No, no, no, I know that. I just… I mean … he's so romantic … I just never seem to … be able to."

"Nonetheless, can we please agree that that _isn't_ a factor? I mean, you were just skirting the actual conversation, anyway."

"I think it _is_ a factor, though. He'll get bored of waiting eventually." Ziva said.

"You act like the situation is permanent. It's not."

"What if it is?" came the soft counter response.

"It's not." Rachel assured.

Rachel watched Ziva nod and wipe her eyes. They'd given away her hard exterior again. Years ago, Rachel used to worry that one day Ziva would implode. She had never allowed anything to bother her and Rachel swore that one day, all those emotions would turn on her. Everything that had ever bothered her would come back to haunt her. It would be a volcanic eruption that would rival Vesuvius in its destruction. Of course, Rachel hadn't been any better, but she'd always worried about Ziva more than herself. Now, Rachel wondered if this cascade of emotion that had followed her imprisonment was more destructive than any flow of lava she could have ever imagined.

"This is crazy," Ziva said after taking a moment to gather herself. "We have only been dating for four months."

"You've been dating on and off for four _years_." Rachel turned the gas off on the stove and lifted the pieces of chicken onto another plate.

"What kind of outlandish things has Abby planted in your head?" Ziva asked with a laugh. She continued wiping her eyes.

"You don't want to know." The chef covered the chicken with tin foil and brought the salad bowl over to the table. She took a seat across from Ziva.

"I think I do."

"Okay. Well," Rachel thought for a moment. "She talked a lot about the summer Gibbs left. She said you and Tony were practically attached at the hip outside of work. She said she called you by accident one night at like two in the morning and Tony answered your phone. She said that Tony took an undercover operation a year later and didn't tell you about. She told me about the girl he fell in love with." Rachel paused and looked at Ziva, before continuing. "She said that she could tell how much it hurt you."

"I was hurting because I thought that there was something wrong with him. I thought he was sick."

Rachel wondered if Ziva was aware of what that statement really said. She wondered if she knew that pretending that she wasn't jealous, but just concerned for his well being, spoke volumes.

"She said that after Director Shepard died, you had four days before you had to leave. Tony had six before he joined the _Seahawk_. She and McGee wanted to spend them with you, with both of you, but both of you went radio silent."

"We grew very close in California." She mumbled. Her eyes were focused on the grain of the wood table.

"Shall I continue?" Rachel asked.

"No. We both know how the story ends, don't we?"

"Happily."

"For now." Ziva acknowledged. She sighed and poured the cut vegetables into the salad bowl.

"Kill the cynicism, will you?"

"I am concerned about you, Rachel. You have become so demanding and forward." Ziva chided, shaking her head disapprovingly at her.

"Nah. You just forgot. I took a hiatus this fall. You seemed kind of weird."

The front door clicked and the two women in the kitchen heard the door swing open and close shut again. A few seconds later, Tony entered the kitchen carrying more than the gallon of milk and bottle of wine that he was supposed to buy. He set the bag on the counter and then kissed Ziva's cheek.

"Miss me?" he asked.

"You have no idea. I don't think that we should allow her over here anymore."

"You people love me." Rachel said.

Ziva huffed.

Rachel got up from her chair and moved back from the stove. She checked her simmering lemon sauce before turning the gas off. She tipped the pot, letting the sauce spread over her perfected chicken.

"Hey, don't mess with the cook," Rachel reminded, "She'll poison your food."

Tony laughed. "Ziva would have noticed if you poisoned her food."

"Yeah," Rachel agreed, "But _you_ wouldn't." She picked the plates of the counter and carried them over to the table.

"Hey," Tony raised his hands into the air to surrender, "it's not like I'm invading _your_ house."

"This _isn't_ your house." Rachel stepped around him and set the food down.

"It's where I live."

"Do you pay the rent?" She asked. The incredulousness of her tone implied that she already knew the answer.

"Actually, I now pay half, so there!" He said, pleased that he had been able to pull a fast one on the former CIA operative.

Rachel turned toward Ziva and snarled something sounding like, "You never told me that!"

"I forgot." Ziva offered.

"Whatever," Rachel shrugged, "Just eat my chicken and tell me that it's the best you've ever had."

"I can do that," Tony said. He took his fork and pulled a piece of chicken from the serving plate. He cut a piece off and then stuffed it into his mouth. Tony made a point to take his time chewing. Finally, after making a few different faces, she saw him swallow. He thought for a moment. "You can really cook, you know. If this whole NCIS thing doesn't work out for you, you should think about opening a restaurant or like… maybe a food truck. People love those."

"I agree," Ziva said, "Well, not the food truck part. Those only serve greasy and heavily fried food. You could do better than that."

Rachel's face brightened into a smile and she tipped her glass in thanks to her friends. She was about to say something when she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Maybe Aiden was out of work. She wouldn't hesitate in inviting him over to Ziva's. She corrected herself – _Tony_ and Ziva's. Rachel pulled the phone out of her jean and to her dismay the display did not say Aiden Crowley, but instead, it read simply Gibbs. She sighed, showed it to Tony and Ziva and then opened it.

"Williams." She answered. It was a little strange that Gibbs was calling her; he hadn't even called Tony or Ziva yet.

"Evan Keller was found dead in his office. I can't get a hold of Tony, figured you'd be able to find Ziver. McGee is already on his way. See you _all_ at John's Hopkins in an hour." Rachel was almost unable to process the rapid fire of information that her boss threw at her. It took her a moment to realize _whom_ he was talking about and _what_ that possibly implied.

"Wait, Gibbs . . . as in . . .?" She really hoped it wasn't the Evan Keller that she knew he was talking about. Because that meant that their perfect little world was about to become … _imperfect_ again.

"Rachel," he sighed, "Who else?"

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her and hung up the phone. She looked back at Tony and Ziva. By the looks on their faces, they knew that something was up. It wasn't just another dead marine.

"You're in violation of rule three," she said to Tony.

"Yeah, I realized that when yours rang." He turned his head at her, "Dead sailor?"

"Dead Evan Keller." She responded. She tried to be as even as possible, despite the fact that her heart was hammering in her chest.

"_How_?" Ziva immediately asked.

"He didn't say. He wants us at John's Hopkins now."

"Then, let's go," Ziva said, already up from the table.

* * *

Kyle Webb was not someone who Tony was expecting to see when he entered the crime scene inside the Whitting School of Engineering's Computer Science Department. When he'd left Baltimore PD, Webb had been a kid – not a day over twenty-three, fresh out of the academy and just a little annoying, but Tony had always thought he had some kind of promise in his future. They'd worked together once or twice; Tony thought he was good guy, he asked a lot of question and was a little too into gossip for Tony's liking, but you knew he meant well. He'd gotten pushed around by suspects and walked over by everyone in the unit. He was _that_ guy.

Tony almost didn't recognize the man briefing Gibbs beside Keller's body.

"DiNozzo!" Webb exclaimed, "I hadn't realized that you were still alive."

Tony reached his hand out and shook Kyle Webb's, "Same goes for you, Webb. I figured a suspect would have knocked you off by now."

"Well, I'm a homicide detective now, so, _thankfully_, I usually have a couple guys around me."

"Probably a good thing," Tony said, he scratched his head and then turned to look at the body. "So what happened here?"

"We don't know," Webb sighed, "No blunt force trauma, no gunshot wound, nothing out of the ordinary. We looked him up and saw that he was due in court in the morning – led us to you."

Tony nodded and then scanned the body. He pulled the camera out of his bag and began taking pictures. Webb was right; there was nothing obviously wrong with guy. Maybe Ducky would find otherwise.

"So…what's your guys connection to him? He's not ex-military." Gibbs sensed the change in conversation and moved away. He wasn't into _that_ kind of talk.

"He was involved in some illegal activity in relation to one of our Agents." Tony didn't dare look up from the camera. His face would have betrayed him.

"Someone on your team? That's rough. No wonder your boss sounded so bothered when I called."

"It was rough," Tony agreed. And just like that he was standing in the kitchen doorway watching Ziva frantically peer through every window. When that look in her eyes came flashing He stole a glance over his shoulder. She was on the other side of the tape, interviewing the janitor who had found the body.

"Which one?"

"Uh…" Tony scratched his head and took another picture, "Agent David."

"_Dah-vid_," Webb repeated, "The dark-haired girl?"

"Yeah."

"Wow… She's _really_ attractive. I wish _I_ worked with her."

"She's taken."

"Lucky guy," Kyle mused and then something dawned on him and he turned away from Ziva and back to Tony. "_You_?"

"Webb, when did you get so nosey? You like this at the precinct?"

"That's a yes. Well, congratulations man," He patted Tony on the back.

"Yeah. Yeah."

"Hey, no worries man, I'm married." He flashed his ring.

"Now, _that_'s a shocker," Tony joked.

"Tony," Rachel called, stepping over the crime scene tape. "Gibbs wants Ziva and I to head back to the Navy Yard, take a look at some tapes with McGee. He's talking to the security guard, said for you to meet him at the car when you're done."

"Thanks, Probie," Tony said and watched Rachel walk away.

He finished taking pictures around the body and then moved into the back alcove of the office. Besides dozens of filing cabinets stacked on top of each other, it housed computers older than Tony thought Keller was. His geek alert was going off loud and clear. Except, this guy wasn't some harmless computer guy. He'd caused a lot of damage to Tony's life – to Ziva. Speaking of Ziva, he took his phone out and typed a quick message before hitting send.

"Never thought you'd be the type, DiNozzo," Webb remarked from behind him.

"What type?" Tony asked. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

"Falling so hard. I mean, she's gorgeous and all, but you're Tony DiNozzo."

"Says the guy who's married." Tony huffed.

"That's different, though. I've always been the marrying type. You've never been."

"Webb," Tony turned around, "Not to burst your little bubble, but we worked together for like three weeks."

"I'm just saying, man, people talked."

"It was almost eight years ago." Tony reminded.

"I know."

* * *

Three of the four musketeers stood around the big plasma screen in the bullpen. Each one of them had their arms folded across their chest and their feet were spread exactly a foot apart. McGee clicked over to the next slide and then to another one and then another. Every once and a while one of the three or two of the three would share a glance with the other.

The tapes were uncharacteristically clear. It was vaguely reminiscent of the tapes that they had taken from Ziva's apartment building, but no one dared to make that comment. In fact, in the two hours since they'd been back from Baltimore and the six since they'd found out that Keller was dead, no one had made even a tenth of a reference to the situation that had brought Mr. Keller into their purview. It wasn't like anyone had forgotten and there was a silent agreement that no one would mention anything until it was absolutely necessary.

McGee switched to another slide. Rachel checked her phone for the time and then looked up at the screen. She furrowed her brow and then leaned closer to the screen.

"I know him."

"You do?" McGee asked.

"No, no I mean, I've definitely seen him before. I don't _know him_, know him."

McGee and Ziva shared a curious look before he leaned over his desk and picked his phone off of the receiver. He dialed Abby's extension and when she answered, he asked her to do some facial recognition work and find out who the guy was.

Hanging up the phone, McGee bookmarked the slide and turned back to his teammates. Rachel had her hand against her forehead, straining herself to look more closely at the picture. McGee chuckled before saying, "Rach, Abby will figure out if you know him."

"That's not what I'm looking at," There was just a hint of disdain in her voice, "There's a shadow behind him. Go to the next slide."

McGee was determined to always be on Rachel's good side so he did as he was told and hit the next button. Sure enough, another two men came into view.

"A hit team." Ziva suggested.

"Looks that way," Tim agreed.

Rachel rocked back on her heels before dismissing McGee and Ziva with a wave of her hand. "I don't like how this feels," she mumbled as she headed towards the back staircase.

* * *

Abby was about to pick up the phone and call McGee when she heard the door to the staircase fly open. There was only one person on the team who used the staircase instead of the elevator.

"File not found?" Rachel read as she approached Abby's computer. "How can the file not be found?"

"I don't know." Abby said, "But that does imply that there was a file to begin with…"

Rachel started pacing in front of Abby's computer, "I really don't like this; I really don't like this."

"What's the big deal?" Abby asked. "I mean, I know what the _big deal_ is, but you're totally freaking out and like that's cool – I mean we all get freaky about Ziva now, but you don't … "

"I've never told anyone this…."

Abby picked her remote control up and hit the button to close the door. "I'm listening," she said.

"Keller looked familiar. I couldn't place him, but it wasn't the first time I'd seen him. I knew that."

"And…" Abby was getting uncomfortable. She didn't like what Rachel was implying. Eli's invasion, as she had dubbed it, had been really tough on Ziva. Tony didn't tell her much, but McGee shared everything and that was enough for Abby to never want anything like that to happen again.

"Now I've placed him."

"Where?" Her eyes widened as she asked the question that she didn't actually want the answer to.

"CIA."

* * *

Part of the reason that Leon Vance took the Director's position was with the hopes that he'd have more respectable working hours. Jackie and the kids were getting tired of him running of to who knows where at all hours of the night. Usually, things worked in his favor. He was home by seven every night, he only worked the occasional Saturday and he always took Sundays off to catch Jared's games.

Nights like tonight, though, he always wished he'd told Agent Sharp to bug off. He'd chosen excitement over predictability, though, and his life was certainly never predictable, that was for sure.

It was close to four in the morning when he arrived at the office. Most of team Gibbs had eyed him as he had climbed the stairs to his office. They were a nosey bunch and their curiosity didn't bother in the least. He was their boss and he knew that they would never forget that.

There were others, however, who often found it difficult to remember that he was the Director of a national agency; namely Trent Kort – the man who was currently sitting at his desk.

"Don't worry, Director Vance," he said, "the lock on your door was one of the most difficult that I have ever encountered."

Vance made a mental note to increase office security. This was just embarrassing; his files and things were locked under a different system that needed his fingerprint, but still, the fact that Kort had gotten himself into his office was just unsettling.

"As comforting as that is Mr. Kort…" He folded his arms across his chest. "I'd love to know what you thought was so important it couldn't wait another five hours."

"Your Agents downstairs seem to think that it is important."

"That's their job, not mine." Normally, he put up with Kort's shenanigans, but he honestly didn't have it in him tonight.  
"It seems the identity of two CIA assets may have been compromised within your agency. We picked up some facial recognition attempts."

"You track our software?" Vance asked, suddenly angrier than he had been about the lock.

"We track everyone's."

"Who?" Vance asked getting back to the real discussion at hand.

"An informant named Evan Keller and an operative who shall continue to remain nameless."

"Evan Keller was under NCIS investigation for illegal activity in regards to an NCIS agent – and now he's dead and you're telling me that he was CIA?" His anger just kept rising. Until this afternoon, Leon had almost wiped the Keller case from his mind. It was going to court – practically out of his hands.

"Not CIA. An informant." Kort corrected.

"But you knew what he'd been doing?" Vance moved closer and leaned over his desk. Kort was far too comfortable.

"I did not. It had been above my clearance." As if that admission cleared him for any possible blame.

"Is the CIA responsible for his death?"

"The CIA does not operate on American soil." Kort said matter of factly.  
"That doesn't answer my question."

"The answer to your question may be classified. We would like to take over the investigation and save you the red tape." Kort got up from Vance's chair and head towards the door.

"No thank you. We'll keep this one in house. He has some serious ties here."

"Agent David?" Kort asked. His face carried the smirk that told Vance that he'd known all along.

Vance took a deep breath before saying, "That's classified." He didn't need that one to get out there. It had been enough of a mess.

Kort shrugged and turned the doorknob.

"What do you know?"

"More than you, Leon and I'm willing to strike a deal."

* * *

Gibbs had sent them home to sleep for a few hours. He'd said they were useless walking around like the living dead. They were due back at the office in three hours. Ziva had been asleep next to him for the last hour and half and, in that time, Tony had counted the five cracks in paint in the ceiling at least fifty times. He'd have to paint over them. They were driving him crazy.

Strange thing was, he wasn't thinking about the case or Ziva or anything that one might think would be keeping him from drifting off into a much-needed nap. No, he was thinking of Kyle Webb. Kyle Webb, the guy who'd been picked on at the precinct; Kyle Webb, the guy who'd been intimidated by suspected; the guy who woman had thought wasn't strong enough to be a cop. After just seven or eight years on the force, he'd been made Detective. Not Lieutenant or supervising officer, but a full fledged Detective. He had respect for the guy's accomplishment, he did, but…

He'd been at NCIS awhile. He'd done some pretty great things. Great things even after Jenny. Hell, he'd planned and carried out a rescue operation in hostile territory. Not that he'd done that for the professional reward, because he hadn't. But still. Part of him actually wanted more. He loved working for Gibbs, but things would change eventually. Gibbs could retire again. He and his partner could be separate for any number of reasons that actually pleased him. Though he absolutely hated work without her, he knew that if they were to be split up for reasons in the future, it would be their own doing. It would be because they were partners at home too.

Ziva rolled onto her other side and curled into his side. He really wished he could asleep with her right now. This was going to absolutely kill him later. He rubbed his up and down her back.

He _had_ to be a better Detective than Webb. He just had to be. He had more experience. He knew how things worked. He did and though he gave his Probies crap – there was nothing Tony wanted nothing more than to be the leader that Gibbs had been to him – the mentor and advisor.

He turned slightly and wrapped his arms around Ziva. It didn't really matter right now, did it? He had another three hours to just lay here with her. In the end, he realized, she was _all_ that really mattered anyway.

* * *

**Next chapter is longer, I promise. **

**Reviews are always appreciated. :)**

**-Cara**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: No, Lock and Key didn't die. I'm sorry if my ridiculous absence led you to make such a conclusion. This chapter has been such a work in progress. I really can't wait to know what you think. **

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

Rachel picked her head off of her desk and scanned the bullpen. She was still the only one around. She hoped that it stayed that way for just a little bit longer. She wasn't ready to face anyone, yet.

They'd all seen Trent Kort come in. It seemed that he wasn't liked by anyone here either.

She and Trent had a sordid past. He had been her father's right hand man for the past decade, if not longer. He'd always been at the house, coming in and out as if it was his duty. She'd come to realize that Kort did everything that wasn't legitimate enough for another operative to do. Everything he did for her father was off the books and, usually, out of the office.

He had been nice to Rachel as a child, always bringing her and Jake candy from whatever exotic place he'd just come back from, but as she got older and became a member of the CIA, herself, she saw another side of him. She saw another side of him that she didn't like and yet another side of her father that she didn't like.

Rachel supposed that that was what made everything so complicated nowadays. She was just beginning to lift the veil of innocence off her face and she didn't like what she was seeing. From Trent Kort and her father, to Eli David, part of her was always waiting for someone else to fall from glory.

"Thought I sent you home," Gibbs said as he took a seat at his own desk.

"Sor – I figured I could just take a nap here." She rubbed her eyes again and sat up straighter in her chair. She looked up towards the Director's office. She hadn't missed Kort come down, had she?

"He's still up there."

"Hmm?"

"You think this is your fault."

"Gibbs, I – "

"Williams," he got up from his desk and came to sit on the side of hers. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Think Ziva's mad at me?" She blurted out. The way she looked up at him, the wideness of her eyes and the fear in her voice, he wondered how all of the bruised and broken seemed to flock to him.

"I don't think it's crossed her mind." He said.

"I mean, what if I saw Keller in her apartment building?"

"Ya didn't." He shrugged.

"How do you know?"

"Some things, Williams, you just know."

A throat was cleared at the other end of the bullpen and Rachel turned to see Director Vance coming into view. He stepped towards them.

"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything…"

"Nope," Gibbs responded, getting off of Rachel's desk and coming to stand in front of the director.

"Well," Vance said, "I just came to let you know that the CIA will be taking over full jurisdiction for the Keller case."

"CIA doesn't have domestic jurisdiction." Gibbs countered.

"They do when it's an internal investigation – it _is_ one of their personnel."

"Its one of our personnel, too."

"And we'll be informed of any new information," Vance was beginning to get aggravated, "If you'd like, Agent Gibbs, we can continue this discussion in my office."

At some point in Gibbs and Vance's conversation, the room around Rachel had started to spin.

It all made sense. Kort arrived, did her father's dirty work and soon it would be like Evan Keller never existed. That wasn't how it was supposed to work. They had to know what happened – what really happened. Ziva had to know. _She_ had to know.

Rachel was out of her chair and her backpack was on her shoulder before she even realized what she was doing. She slipped passed Gibbs and Vance.

"I'm going to take you up on that offer," she said to Gibbs. And then, she sprinted to the elevator.

* * *

Ziva stood in the bathroom, running a brush though her hair before she and Tony headed back to the office. She watched as a figure appeared in the doorway and intently watched her. He slumped against the frame and sighed.

"You did not sleep." She observed.

"Is that a question?" he asked.

"No."

"I see."

"Why not?" She turned towards him and continued softening her curls.

"I don't know. Thinking, I guess."

"About?" she prodded.

There was a long silence before Tony pulled his eyes up from the floor and had the courage to look Ziva in the eyes. "Kyle Webb." He paused. "I don't know; I just can't believe that guy's a detective. You know?"

"He seemed like he was doing a fine job…" Ziva offered. She shrugged and placed the brush back in the drawer.

"Yeah…yeah, he was. I just…"

She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to answer. His face contorted and then he continued. "Do you think I'm a good agent?"

"Of course I think you're a good agent, Tony."

"Don't just say it to placate me, though."

"Do you say things just to placate me?" She raised a brow at him.

"No… Okay, I see your point, but… I mean – I have more life experience than Webb, right?"

Visions of undercover operations, shootouts, desert rescues and late night confessions moved through her vision. "I would think so." She took a step forward and turned her head to the side. "What's this about, Tony."

"Nothing, Zi," he shrugged away and back into the bedroom. He grabbed his shoes from the floor and sat down on the bed to put them on.

She shut the bathroom light off and followed him into the other room. "What do you often say to me? _Seems like something_."

He sighed, stopped tying his shoes and looked up at her. "I'll be more than _Senior Field Agent_ someday, right? I love it, I do. I just want to be someone's Gibbs one day."

She smiled and sat down next to him. Ziva patted his knee and then twisted towards him. "Absolutely."

* * *

To be quite honest, Rachel was surprised that her key still worked. She assumed that _he_ would have changed the locks by now.

Apparently not.

She opened the front door and found herself standing in an entryway that, though once had been so familiar, was now foreign. She took a moment and ran her hand along the oak railing that lined the room. She used to pretend the previous owners had etched the carvings in order to detail the lives that they had led in this house.

She crossed the large room and made her way down the hallway.

The Chevy Chase house that Rachel had grown up in was not a mansion – she made sure that everyone knew that. It was, however, spacious enough that two people could live there and still rarely see each other. As a teenager, she had grown to enjoy that particular amenity.

Rachel came to the door of the study and watched as her father looked up at her from whatever he'd been doing at his desk.

She opened the door and marched toward him. All hesitation had stayed in the adjoining living room.

"I saw you come him," Eric Williams remarked.

"I'm sure you did."

He looked back down at his desk and continued writing in the open file. It took all of her will power not to lean forward and see what it was that he thought was more important than her.

"It's been a while, Rach," He commented, his eyes still cast down at the paper.

She took a deep breath, stifled a snide remark that she had building in the back of her throat, and decided to cut to the chase. "I want you give up jurisdiction to the Keller case."

"And why is that?" He looked up and nearly laughed at her statement.

"Because I know that you were Eli David's enabler."

"He mentioned a small scuffle with his daughter. I guess I can see why you two get along so well."

"It was more than a scuffle and I know that you're _well_ aware of that."

"Rachel, I'm not sure that you have the right to be talking to me this way."

She sank down into a leather chair in front of his desk and sighed. "I just want the truth. That's all I've ever wanted." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"The truth about Ziva and Eli or the truth about you and Prague?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. It was such a typical way for him to try and change the subject. "Ziva and Eli."

"Eli is an old friend. You help friends out when they need it. That's all it was."

Rachel was beginning to lose control of the anger that was slowly boiling inside of her. "I don't have to tell you that what he did – what _you_ did was illegal, you know that, but you don't care do you? You've never cared?"

"I have always done what's been in the best interest of my country."

"This has nothing to do with that."

"Eli is an ally and he has helped me out in the past."

"The CIA isn't supposed to operate on American soil!" She protested.

He nodded.

She ignored the vibration of her phone in her pocket. It was probably Gibbs. Even worse, it could be Ziva. She couldn't talk to either of them here. "I just don't get it, I never have."

"That's the problem, Rachel. You want to understand everything about everything. Sometimes things just are the way they are. You do things just because they're what you do." His voice had taken on that of a real father's, giving his daughter advice that she would carry with her for the rest of her life. It was uncomfortable and unnatural. "Its why the CIA isn't for you."

She would always remember that last sentence because it was what convinced her that he'd never know when to stop.

She shook her head. "Just tell me the whole story. Then I'll leave."

"There you go again." He sighed. "You don't _need_ the whole story."

"I want it." She snapped. "Just tell it to me and I won't _ever_ bother you again." Her phone vibrated in her pocket again.

"You think that's what I want, Rach? To lose both my children?" he asked, rising to his feet.

"Honestly," she said, "I don't know. I never have."

"Rachel," he contested.

"Can you just tell me what happened," she begged.

He sighed, slightly broken and sat down again. He folded his hands on the desk in front of him and began to talk, "Eli was bothered by the summer's events. He knew he didn't have the resources to go get her, but he isn't soulless and it bothered him. When he found out that she was okay, he was extremely relieved, but he knew she'd never return to him willingly. He is deathly afraid of wasting her talent, as he says." He looked at her for a moment and chill ran down her spine because she wasn't sure if he was thinking about her or Jacob. "He just wanted to find out why that other Agent…. Tom…?"

"Tony."

"Tony," he nodded, "He just needed to know what exactly was keeping her here. He thought this would be the most discrete way."

"Where do you come in?"

"Mossad is not supposed to operate on U.S. soil. Setting up the surveillance was dangerous enough. Keller had done some things for me before –"

"He was an informant."

"He needed financial assistance – it was a perfect arrangement."

"An illegal one." She pointed out.

"They both knew the possible consequences, didn't give them much thought, but knew them. That's Eli."

"What about you? What did you think about the possible repercussions?"

"I was merely a connection for Keller and Eli."

"But you sent Trent in to take the case from NCIS."

"Nothing wrong with that." He shrugged. "Keller did work for us."

"He was involved with one _us_." She countered. Her phone vibrated again and he seemed to take notice that this wasn't the first time. He looked at her.

Rachel reached into her pocket and checked the name. Two texts. One missed call. All from Aiden. She slid it back.

"I think what you're doing, what you did, is wrong." She said.

"I know."

"So you're admitting to killing Keller?"

"That's highly classified, but both the CIA and Mossad were involved in the situation."

"You helped Eli erase him."

Eric Williams stared blankly at his daughter.

Rachel rose from her seat. "Whatever," she shrugged. "Thank you for talking to me." She turned and walked out of the study.

"Rachel," he called.

She stopped.

"I do miss your brother."

She nodded. She knew he did – he'd just never missed her. Rachel walked out of the house and dialed Aiden. She'd let him hold her.

* * *

Gibbs flipped the basement light on and hurried down the stairs. He set his glass down on the workbench and pulled the covering off of his project. A wave of dust particles hit the air and he was reminded how much he loved the smell of freshly sanded wood.

In the last few weeks it had gone from a couple of pieces of wood to something that actually resembled a rocking chair. Something that had so much meaning in it, it could rival a great work of literature that would be read by generations to come.

Last night he had finished the carvings on the last leg and tonight, he planned on attaching the runners. He had finished those weeks ago. They were his favorite part of the chair. The outside of the runner had a pattern of three flags on it – an Israeli flag, an American flag and an Italian one. The inside of the runner had the NCIS insignia on it.

He spent the night attaching the runner and sanding the whole chair. He didn't plan on settling for anything other than perfection.

When he was done, he carefully wrapped it in the moving blanks that he had used to shroud it during the day. He placed it in the back of the shed and left it to wait for the time when it could be given to its rightful owners.

"You're not using him," Ziva assured. It was a chorus that she had already sung a few times before. She leaned further into Tony's chest, successfully blocking the noise from the TV. Now, all she could hear were heavy sighs on the other end of the phone.

"You agree that it's probably not fair to him though, right?" Rachel asked.

"I don't think I ever said that." Ziva looked at the clock. She'd been on the phone with Rachel for twenty minutes now and she still wasn't exactly sure what was going on.  
"Ziva! The man basically proposed to me tonight!" Rachel reminded.

"He didn't propose to you, Rachel." Ziva said calmly. "If I recall, you thanked him for being a shoulder to cry on and he said he'd always be there for you."

Rachel sighed on the other end of the line and Ziva heard her body slump. "I think I need to break up with him." She said.

"Whatever you want to do."

"You don't think I should?"

"I think that I am only getting half of the story and therefore do not have a right to have an opinion."

"I need you to have an opinion, though."

"What were you upset about?" Ziva asked again.

"Stuff."

"Clearly." Ziva stated.

"You know what, I should let you go, I've been bothering you for long enough." She back peddled.

"Rachel," Ziva admonished.

"No, really, Ziva, its not a big deal. Thanks for listening to me, though."

Ziva sighed. She wasn't getting anywhere with this. Rachel had always been stubborn. "Fine, but I am taking you to lunch tomorrow."

"You don't have to – "

"I'll pick you up at quarter of twelve."

"Okay." She relented.

Ziva shut the phone and tossed it onto the coffee table with a huff. For a trained interrogator, she hadn't found out much information.

Gibbs had asked her to check on Rachel after she had apparently run out of the bullpen in the middle of the afternoon. Ziva had sensed that he had an idea as to what was going on, but if he did, he hadn't felt the need to inform her. She sat up straighter and ran a hand through her hair, before settling back against Tony.

"What was _that_ about?" he asked.

"I have no idea." She sighed. "She was talking in vague and general circles. Maybe Gibbs will share his gut with you."

He rubbed her shoulder. "What was she like as a teenager?" He mused.

"Focused and reserved. Calculated."

"Sounds like someone I know." He observed.

"Yes, well, we have always had a lot in common. It is no surprise that we came undone together."

"Or that you're coming back together, together."

She didn't say anything.

"She's only twenty-two," he reminded, "I would assume most girls are still romantically dramatic at twenty-two."

"Yes." She agreed.

"But that's not what you were thinking about, was it?"

She twisted so that she could look at him. There was a small gleam in her eyes. "I have an idea," she said.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked. There was just a bit of skepticism evident on his face.

"Yes." She got up from the couch and grabbed his hand. She heard every floorboard creek as she moved toward the other end of the apartment. Ziva pulled him down the hallway and into the bedroom. She stopped in front of the bathroom door and let go of his hand.

She looked at him for a second, weighed the option of turning back now. He'd never really know, nor did she think he'd care. She'd come to realize that in the last few months. To him it didn't matter anymore.

"Just…" She struggled to find something to say. "Come with me." She kissed him, hoping that it would remind her why she was about to face her biggest fear, and then pulled him into the bathroom and towards the shower. She could feel his confusion but he followed her anyway. Her face felt like it had just been thrown into an oven. Her stomach threatened to regurgitate itself. She was sure that Tony could feel her hand shaking inside of his. Yet, she kept walking.

Usually, she would have panicked by now.

She stopped when she reached the glass door. Ziva let herself collapse against it. She turned to look at him. She could see that he was slowly beginning to understand where she was going – what she was about to do.

He took a step forward and kissed her. He slowly ran his hand through her hair. And with each movement, her inhibitions slowly fell away. It was as if with each stroke of his hand, she could feel all the events of the past melt away and drift into an abyss that would take them far, far way from her. Her shirt was slipped off her torso and discarded on the floor.

His fingers unhooked the clasp of her bra.

She detangled herself from him and opened the shower door. She reached in and turned the knob as far as it would go. Slowly the room began to fill with steam and when she turned back to him, he had his hands at her waist, searching her eyes for the answer to his question. She reached forward and undid his belt. She pushed his pants to the floor just as he helped her step out of her own.

He wrapped his hand around her neck and kissed her again. His thumb hooked inside her underwear and before she had time for anxiety to build, they became a part of the pile on the floor, too. His boxers did not miss out on the party and once his attention was pulled back to her, he wrapped his arms around her and carried her into the shower.

As the scalding rain fell down on her, Tony kissed away every pain and every fear she swore she'd ever had.

She was sure that she would never feel safer or more loved.

* * *

It was close to midnight when Rachel finally got up the courage to get out of her car and knock on the front door. She waited for an answer.

One never came.

She thought about calling his cell phone and waiting for him to figure out that she was outside.

Then Rachel remembered something that Ziva had said. She tried the knob and, sure enough, the front door swung open.

"Gibbs?" she asked, peering past the door.

She took a step inside and closed the door behind her.

"Gibbs?" A little louder than the first time.

There was a click and she heard the back door open and close again. He came into the front room. "Took you long enough," he remarked.

She sighed. "I knew I should've come in earlier."

He nodded and headed back down the stairs to what she assumed was his infamous basement. She waited a moment, contemplating whether or not she just wanted to go back to her car and drive until she ended up somewhere else. She decided against it.

He was cleaning up a work area in the middle of the room when she reached the last wooden step. "Sit." He said.

She did, right in that spot. "I'm not bothering you, am I?" she asked.

"Nope."

"I know what happened. I talked to my Dad – made him tell me the everything."

"Yeah? What'd he say to you?"

"He said I look for reason too much and that I need to start taking things at face value and just do them. He said it was why I wasn't successful at the Agency."

"Never take anything at face value. That's an unwritten rule."

"He also inadvertently admitted to his involvement in Keller's death. I mean, we all knew that but I didn't enjoy hearing it."

"Better knowing the whole truth?" he asked.

"I guess so, yeah. I'm glad I talked to him without breaking down. There is some type of closure."

"Here's what I think, Rachel." He paused and then turned to her. "You're a smart person, you don't blindly follow orders and you try to do what you think is the right thing to do. I think you're already a good agent but, one day, you're going to be a great one. So you weren't meant for the CIA. You're meant to be on this team."

She swore that it was the most she'd ever heard him talk. "Thank you." She said.

He nodded. "Just don't tell DiNozzo that I said all those things."

She laughed. "I wont."

"You gonna tell Ziver?"

"About what you said?" she asked.

"About your father."

"Yes." She nodded. "I have to. I don't know how to keep things from her."

"You two are quite the pair," he observed.

"When I was in high school, my cell phone bill was ridiculous. I had so many long distance calls. I didn't know who else to call who would understand _everything_."

* * *

Tony unwound a strand of curly black hair from his finger and let it fall back among the rest. He waited a moment and then felt her chest rise and fall. She was so peaceful. It made something swell inside him that he couldn't control. He'd irrevocably loved her before, now it had somehow doubled.

He had remembered how _passionate_ and _compatible_ they were. So, that came as no surprise to him. Just like everything else though, the stakes were so much higher now. Their emotions were heightened. Their feelings were _rawer_.

He'd done his best to take great care with her. Yeah, sure, he wanted to get lost in it too, but this wasn't about him. It could be about him another time. That – _this_ was about her.

She twisted her head and he realized that there was just a touch of liquid on his bare chest – right at the spot where her head had just lain. He tightened his arm around her for good measure.

She sighed.

"Are you okay?" As happy as he'd been to share that with her, he knew that there would be some type of residual effect. It was just the way that things had seemed to be working.

"Yes." She breathed.

He drew his finger just below her eye. "You're crying."

"I know."

"Oh, Ziva," he sighed and kissed the top of her head and tried to pull her closer.

"I am happy, I promise."

"You don't have to be,"

"I am. I have conquered the biggest thing and it will only get better from here."

He was silent for a moment. All of this was just a little confusing for him. He'd known that having sex was a part of her recovery – it was a fear she had to face, yet, he thought that it would mean more with him. He wasn't just some guy off the street. He just thought that at some point, she would get lost in its significance for _them_. "It will." He agreed.

She didn't say anything back to him and he assumed that she'd fallen asleep. He knew that she loved him – he did. It was just - maybe he needed more from this – from her than he thought. Going into all of this, all those months ago, he had sworn that he'd put her first. He wouldn't let himself get all wrapped up in what he needed or what he wanted. It was all about Ziva.

He closed his eyes and Tony resigned himself to the fact that any serious conversation would have to wait until morning. She would be rational and tell him exactly what that time in the shower had meant.

"Tony?" she asked. There wasn't a touch of sleep in her voice.

"Yeah." He choked out. He could have sworn she was asleep.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Zi." He said.

"You show it well."

She always had been good at getting inside his head. No reason for him to think she would stop now. No, this was only just the beginning.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry if you were looking for smut. It wasn't happening. **

**Please let me know what you thought.**

**-Cara**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: The Final Chapter**

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

Friendship is designed so that there are things that one will inherently know just by looking at their friend. Rachel and Ziva's relationship was no exception to this rule, so it was only fitting that when Rachel slipped into the front seat of Ziva's car the next morning she knew something had changed. She could sense it.

"Something is different about you," she said. She narrowed her eyes at her friend, waiting to hear what had gone on since they'd last spoke.

Ziva looked down at herself and then back at Rachel. She furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't think so."

"No," Rachel groaned, throwing her head back against the seat. "Not your looks…your…"she waved her hands around trying to show what she meant.

Rachel looked her up and down a couple of times, unable to put her finger on it. Then her eyes went wide. "_Ohmygosh!_"

"What?" Ziva asked.

Rachel laughed and shook her head, a smile spreading across her face. "You slept with Tony last night, didn't you?"

"I sleep with Tony every night…" Ziva responded. "It is nothing out of the ordinary –"

"Don't be coy with me, Ziva David." Rachel warned, successfully cutting her sentence off. "You know _exactly_ what I am talking about."

"I do not…"

"Ziva!"

Rachel watched her take a deep breath and then Ziva turned to face her. "If you are thinking what I think you are thinking then you are thinking correctly."

"What, can you not say it out loud?" Rachel asked.

"I am not going to give you every detail…"

"Say it," She coaxed.

"Tony, he has this thing, he hates when you say…" She laughed to herself just thinking about Tony's obsession with the phrase _making love_.

"Say it."

"It's actually quite romantic –"

"Say it." Rachel demanded.

Ziva threw her hands up in frustration. "Fine! We had sex. Happy?"

"Very!" Rachel squealed. She threw her arms around Ziva's neck and pulled her into a hug. "You must be so relieved," she whispered. She knew how much this had meant to Ziva, how it had always been on her mind, the last thing that she still couldn't overcome, the last thing that Saleem Ulman held over her.

Ziva hugged her close, reveling in Rachel's intuition. It had always been spot on. "I am. I _really_ am."

* * *

He had just finished a secure phone call with an officer undercover in Lebanon when Tamar, his secretary, knocked at his door. Eli David called for her to come in. She informed him that he had a private call on the line from Washington. The caller wouldn't say who it was. For a moment, he thought that she had finally come to her senses.

"Shalom," he said.

"I didn't know if you would take my unofficial call," Eric Williams responded.

"Well, Eric, you are not who I was expecting." Eli chuckled.

"I didn't think you were in contact with Ziva."

"I have not been for some time."

Eric paused for a moment. It was moments like these that he found it the most difficult to remain impartial to Eli David. Their lives mirrored each other's on far too great a scale. "Well, I wanted to let you know that it is done and will not be giving us anymore problems."

"What is the Agency calling it?" Eli asked.

"Mistaken identity."

"That simple, huh?"

"It fit best."

"And the collateral damage?" Eli asked.

"None, well, besides my relationship with Rachel."

"It looks like we are even then."

"Well," Eric sighed, "At least both Agencies are still intact with us still at the head." He and Eli had come to realize that there were few things in life that were more important than maintaining their positions. They were the only ones fit for the job.

"We have survived another blast and we are ready for the attacks of tomorrow."

"Will they ever come to their senses?" Eric asked before relinquishing himself to another night of reliving his past glories.

"I do not think so. Ziva is gone, I know that, and Rachel may be right behind her."

"And we thought introducing them would be beneficial to us," Eric remarked. His tone cut between sardonic humor and pure regret.

"Perhaps if they were different."

"I assume you won't be returning to the States any time soon…"

"I'm not sure who would have my neck first, Netanyahu, Clinton, Leon Vance, your daughter or Agent DiNozzo."

"That's is some list, Eli." He couldn't decide if he liked the fact that Rachel made the cut or if it appalled him.

"I guess I will see you next time you're in Israel, my friend."

"Shalom, Eli."

"Goodnight, Eric."

* * *

There was a note on the kitchen counter when Ziva got back from her three-hour lunch with Rachel. She hadn't necessarily been surprised to find the apartment empty when she returned. They'd spent most of the morning in bed and she had been wondering when his post-coital panic attack would come.

_Gym. Abby wanted to know if we wanted to go out tonight. Couldn't say no. Love you. _

Her nerves calmed a little as she read the last line. Maybe he wasn't panicking too much. It was close to three in the afternoon and Ziva decided she would run before changing for dinner or whatever Abby had in mind for the evening.

She returned almost an hour and half later. She hadn't gone for such a long run in quite some time. It pained her to think so, but last night had really eased something inside of her. It had always been clear that Tony loved her, but last night he had _shown_ her how much he loved her and almost more importantly, how much he cared about her. She had yet to figure out how to show him how much that had meant to her.

Aside from the step that that had been for Tony and Ziva's relationship, it had also been an important part of Ziva's recovery. She had let her guard down and known that her trust wouldn't be betrayed. She had given all of herself away. It was the beginning of the end of the power that Saleem still held over her.

She walked into the apartment and locked the door behind her. "Tony?" she called.

"You're back." He walked out of their bedroom, still in the process of buttoning his shirt.

"Is that a bad thing?" she asked.

"Of course not, Sweetcheeks." He stopped buttoning his shirt and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her neck before he settled on her lips. "I haven't seen you in six hours," he said between kisses, "I've missed you."

"You did not get enough of me last night?" Neither of them could decide if she was kidding or asking him to quell some of her insecurities.

"I could _never_ get enough of you. _That_ was only the beginning."

She laughed and tried to act like his comment hadn't just made her feel so much better and wiggled herself from his grasp. "I have to take a shower," she said.

"I could help you with that." He remarked. He thought that the previous evening had given him the ability to kid about that kind of thing. Throw it around a bit. See how comfortable she was.

Ziva surprised him by turning around. "I'd like that," she said.

His clothes were on the ground again before she even had the water running.

* * *

"Should I be nervous?" Aiden asked. He pulled the door to the Capitol Lounge open and tried to pick out which group of people were Rachel's friends.

"I don't know, actually." She considered what might ensue when everyone realized that she had brought Aiden along for _Meet the Team_. "Maybe." She'd never had anyone like this to introduce a boyfriend to. By the time she had started dating, Jacob had been at basic training and then that particular guy didn't make it through his first tour of duty. Her father had never been home enough, not that he would have cared anyway. She could have slept with the whole football team – it wouldn't have even crossed his radar.

"So…quick run through. Tony and Ziva are like actually together and then Abby and McGee…you just have theories that I shouldn't share."

"That's right," Rachel said. She patted his arm and then stepped in front of Aiden to lead them to the table. Abby was already frantically waving.

"_Ohmygosh_! Is this who I think it is?" The words that came out of Abby's mouth sounded more like a squeal rather than a question.

"I hope you guys don't mind that I invited Aiden to come along and meet everyone." Rachel said. She was staring at Ziva, trying to gage her initial gut reaction of the guy.

"Not at all!" Abby said. She was echoed by the rest of the group.

Tony and McGee had gotten up from their chairs and were now going through the formalities of introductions. T_im McGee. Aiden Crowley. Tony DiNozzo. Aiden Crowley. Handshake. Pat on the back. Nice to meet you both. Same to you. _Everyone sat back down. Aiden shifted in his seat a couple of times before turning towards Rachel and offering her a weak smile.

"So, Aiden," Tony began, "Rachel tells us you work for Senator Martin. What's it like being up there on Capitol Hill all day?"

"A little tedious," Aiden admitted, "Not nearly as exciting as what y'all and Rachel do."

"Y'all?" Abby asked. "Where are you from?"

"Well, I'm from San Francisco, but I was raised in Dallas. Well, just outside San Francisco and just outside Dallas." He corrected.

"Abby is from New Orleans." Ziva clarified.

Aiden nodded in understanding.

"Ziva and I were in California a couple years back." Tony recalled "_Great_ state." Ziva rolled her eyes at him, unsure of how he could separate what they did in the hotel in California from how the trip ended.

"It really is. My whole family is there so I try to go back whenever I can. Were you guys in San Francisco when you were there?"

"Unfortunately, no. We stayed in LA – oh and there was that foray into the desert."

"Aw, see, you missed the best part. That's not real California – real California is Big Sur and north. You get away from all the lights of LA."

"Yeah, we'll have to go back."

"We were working when we went," Ziva said, "But I would definitely love to go to Napa Valley." She paused, "You went to school up here, though, yes?"

"Yeah," Aiden nodded. He remembered Rachel saying that Ziva was a trained interrogator. "I went to the College of William and Mary – almost D.C. but not quite."

Rachel sat back in her chair and locked eyes with Ziva as Aiden continued to discuss his college experiences. Ziva offered her a smile and a brief nod of the head. She approved of him.

Rachel had explained the previous night's phone call to her at lunch. No, she didn't like Aiden as much as she feared that he liked her and she _was_ afraid that things were moving a little fast and getting a little too serious when she wasn't sure if she ever wanted too much more with the guy, but that wasn't why she had been so emotional on the phone. She gave a detailed account of her conversation with Eric and said that she assumed that that was what caused the roller coaster of emotions. She apologized for not being able to see that more justice be served for Eli's' actions.

Ziva had folded her own hand over Rachel's and assured her that it wasn't her responsibility. She was fine. Eli wouldn't be returning and if he did, if anything like this ever came up again, she knew Rachel would fire one of the first shots. She was determined that they move past their fathers together. Close that chapter, finish that book and begin a new one accompanied by their own narration.

Rachel had never been a fan of change. It had always seemed to be negative change that came her way. Her mother left. Her brother died. Ziva went back to Israel. Her father practically disowned her. This, this scene at the table she was watching, though, this was good change. All of these people cared about her. All of them would pick up her pieces; all of them would be there for her. She had a job that she finally loved – one that she was good at and one that she was appreciated at. Things were going her way and she knew that wherever he was, Jake was smiling at her.

A drink was set down in front of her and Rachel broke from her momentary trance. She shook it off.

"Don't tell me I already have to take your keys away," Ziva kidded.

"You know, Zee-vah," Rachel shot back, "I'm a responsible drinker."

"Yes, I know, that's why I've picked you up so many times."

"So many times?" Abby asked, "Why haven't I heard these stories?"

"I haven't heard them either," Aiden said.

Tony clapped his hands together in amusement, "Hit 'em, Zi. It's going to be a good night."

* * *

**A/N: A quiet ending. Please let me know what you thought. I really appreciate all the feedback. Thank you to all those who read/reviewed/favored/subscribed it means a lot. **

**There is a sequel that I am already way too invested in. I can't wait to share that. **

**I'd love to know your favorite chapter or scene or quote. **

**Thanks again,**

**Cara**


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